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THE TEXAN 





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THE TEXAN 

AS HE TS SUPPOSED TO BE. 






THE TEXAN 

A TALE OF TEXAS 


LEE M. TAYLOR 


19 0 8 


LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

DEC 24 1903 

Copyrignt Entry 
■VWiT. ■»-“) , I o % 

CLASS Ol XX& No. 

3, U- "1 ^7 
COPY a. 


COPYRIGHT, 1908 
by 

M. TAYLOR 


0‘^~%7 



Dedicated 

To Those Friends Whose 
Characters I Have 
Stolen And Put In This 
Book. 



THE GE^HJINE TEXAN 


THE TEXAN. 


CHAPTER I. 

9 

‘^‘LePs go hunting to-night, 

‘^All right; how are the dogs?’^ 

‘^Oh, they are in fine shape, and 1 think they will be on edge 
for a race to-night/’ 

“^Well, where will we go, and what time shall we start?” 

“Let’s go up South Gabriel, and if we don’t start a cat before 
we get to Bear Hollow we’re almost sure to start that big old cat 
which runs over towards hTelson’s pasture, and goes in one of the 
caves there. It has heat us to those caves two or three times now, 
and I’m itching to catch it and if Old Lead and Old Hunter strike 
its trail hot tO-night they’ll pick it up sure. I guess Roy and Will 
will want to go with us, so you phone Will and I’ll phone Roy, 
and we will start from my house at sundown.” 

“Hadn’t we better take something along to eat?” 

“I expect so ; if we have a good race we’ll be pretty hungry about 
midnight. If you will get the meat and the salt and pepper. I’ll 
get the pickles and the light bread.” 

“All right; I’ll have to hustle, for it is about 4 o’clock now, and 
I have to feed my pony and do the milking after I get home, and 
then get supper and put on my hunting clothes.” 

“All right, Jeff; don’t forget to phone Will.” 

“All right.” 

And the two bo 3 'S walked briskly off in opposite directions. 

Kind reader — I say “kind reader” because it is customary to 
say “kind reader” — if you are not kind you ought to be — so I say' 
“kind reader,” while our two boys have gone to get ready for their 
hunt, I’ll tell you something about them — I’]l introduce you, as 
it were. You will get much better acquainted with them yourself 
if I can persuade you to read this book through, and then you’ll 
know and can judge far yourself what kind of boys they are. 

I’ll first introduce you to Bob, because it is easier to get ac- 
quainted with him than Jeff. His name, did you say? Robert E. 
Lee, called Bob for short. His father? Colonel John Lee, a 


THE TEXAN 


native Texan, and a Confederate colonel during ^The late unpleas- 
antness/^ which the Yankees misnamed ^‘The War of the Eebel- 
lion/^ and which the Confederates now affectionately refer to as 
^‘The Lost Cause/^ His mother? Mary Lee, a well-educated 
woman, a native of Virginia, married to Colonel John Lee in 1864. 
His sisters? Laura Lee, a sweet girl of nineteen, and Bessie Lee, 
aged six. His home? G-eorgetown, Williamson county, Texas, 
about the center of Texas. His character? Read this book 
through and youdl find out. He is a typical Texan; in fact, the 
Texan of this book. If you noticed him while he was talking to 
Jeff you found that he was about twenty years old and good look- 
ing; light hair and brown eyes; broad shoulders; heavy set, and 
strong as an ox; and I am sure if you looked him straight in the 
face you saw that his high forehead showed sense, and plenty of it; 
his laughing eyes a love of fun; and you couldnT have seen any- 
thing in his jaw but bull-dog determination and a fixity of pur- 
pose. 

I won’t have time now to tell you of Jeff — I’ll do that the first 
convenient opportunity. 

If we want to see the dogs we’d better be moving, for it is about 
sundown. Yonder comes Jeff now. The pony he is riding is his 
favorite because he is such a fine saddler, and he is sure-footed, too. 
That is quite an item, as a wildcat is sure to lead you over the 
roughest country it can find, and Old Button, as Jeff calls his 
pony, rarely ever stumbles. 

Bob is ready, too, for yonder he is opening the lot gate to let the 
dogs out. Don’t you think that is a pretty pony he is riding? 
One reason Bob likes Seelim is that he is so small and he can get 
around in the bushes so easily and Bob is not always getting his 
hat knocked off by the limbs of the trees. If you are riding a 
small pony you can lie low on his neck and go through the woods 
like the Devil was after you. 

That first dog coming out of the lot gate is Old Lead, and 
he is well named, too, because he is the dog that starts most of the 
trails, and when they have jumped the cat and are running by 
sight instead of trailing. Old Lead forges ahead and usually leads 
in the race. 

The spotted dog next to Old Lead is Old Hunter. He isn’t 


2 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


very big, but he is a runner; and the boys donT believe that the 
wildcat or fox has ever been born that can stay in front of Old 
Lead and Old Hunter. If they get away from those two dogs they 
have to take to a tree or go into a cave. 

That black and tan dog next to Old Hunter is Old Eusty, the 
best tree dog of the pack, and whenever Old Eusty sits down on 
his haunches by a tree and barks you had just as well get ready 
to go to climbing, for Old Eusty doesn’t lie, and there is some 
kind of varmint up that tree. 

The little slim dog with the big bark is Old Brandy, the cold 
trailer of the bunch. 

That young puppy running alongside of Old Lead and barking 
at him they call Old T’railer. Trailer hasn’t been in the woods 
much; in fact, not long enough for the boys to break him from 
running rabbits and Ireeing ’possums. 

See the dogs crowd around Jeff and bark him a happy welcome. 
Poor brutes, it’s the only way they have of saying ^‘Howdy, Jeff; 
we’re gdad to see you.” 

^^Where are Will and Eoy, Jeff?” Bob asks. 

^‘^Eoy can’t get off until he closes the store; they will come up 
the Leander road, and will hear the dogs and come to us if we 
start anything before we get to Bear Hollow. I told them if we 
did not start anything, we would wait for them at the spring in 
Bear Hollow.” 

^^All right, let’s get a move on us,” says the Texan, as he swings 
lightly into his saddle and blows his horn. 

The dogs all crowd around and bark, and the horses, knowing 
what is coming, pull hard on their bits and break into a slow 
gallop. 

Look out, Mr. Wildcat, Mr. Fox or Mr. Coon, that they don’t 
strike your trail this night, for if they do this December night 
in A. D. 1878 wdll be one long to be remembered by you; that is, 
if you live to remember anything. 

Our hunters stop a few minutes to let their horses and dogs 
drink as they cross the South Gabriel Eiver, about a mile above 
town. 

Mght has come now; the stars are out, and a full moon is just 
rising. The horses have been brought down to a slow walk to 


3 


THE TEXAN 


give the dogs time to hunt. The hunters slowly wend their way 
up the river, and there’s not a dog in sight. Where are they? 
Have they gone home or run off? A tenderfoot might ask these 
questions, but not our hunters, for they well know that the dogs 
are out in the brush, somewhere near, some on one side of the 
river and some on the other, all hunting the best they know how — 
smelling here, tiiere and everywhere, each trying to be the first to 
strike the much-coveted trail. If one of the dogs should come to 
our hunters they would not let it stay, but would send it out into 
the brush again, even if they had to use all the limbs and rocks 
in sight as persuaders. No dog can act as bodyguard for them 
when it ought to be out in the brush rustling. 

^‘"Gee, but isn’t this a fine night for a hunt, J eff ?” 

^‘As fine as I ever saw; it’s clear and cold, with no wind blow- 
ing, and we can hear the dogs running a long ways off to-night.” 

v^They can’t get out of hearing to-night,” Bob replied. 

Hardly were the words spoken when suddenly both horses were 
jerked violently and brought to a full stop, and each boy took off 
his hat and listened. 

What scared them? Nothing at all. Probably 3mu wouldn’t 
have heard anything at all, but to each of their practiced ears had 
come the joyful sound of some dog as somev/here in the distance 
it gave just one short bark. Just a dog’s bark; that was all. And 
now with hats off to hear better, both boys are eagerly listening 
for the next bark, not only to find out which of the dogs is bark- 
ing, but also in what direction it is, and how far off. Just a dog’s 
bark, but it sent a thrill of joy and roused to action all the love 
of the chase, and set the blood tingling. 

The welcome sound of a second bark soon followed, and the 
right hand of each boy instinctively pointed in the direction from 
whence it came, and ^There he is” they both said almost in the 
same breath. 

‘'That was Old Lead,” said Jeff. 

"That’s right,” said the Texan. 

Isn’t it peculiar how a hunter will always use the adjective 
"old” in speaking about his dog? It’s a term of endearment he 
always uses, but never when speaking to the dog. 

But our two boys were not the only ones who had heard Old 
Lead bark — all the dogs had heard him, too, and you could hear 

4 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


the splash of the water as the dogs on the other side of the river 
hit the water coming across to Old Lead. 

‘^Get to him, Kusty/^ yelled the Texan, as a black and tan object 
flashed before the horses, going in the direction of Old Lead. 

^^Get to him. Brandy,” yelled Jeff, as that dog, going like the 
wind, passed behind Lead, and both dogs could now be heard bark- 
ing at irregular intervals. 

Meanwhile Trailer, the puppy, had gotten excited, too, and about 
half-way between the boys and Old Lead he was giving vent to his 
feelings by emitting a series of loud barks, at, he knew not what. 

^^LeFs get to the dogs. Bob,” said Jeff, and the two boys stuck 
spurs to their horses and rode rapidly towards Old Lead and Old 
Hunter. 

About a hundred yards before they reached the dogs they halted 
and sat still on their horses, quietly waiting to see what the dogs 
would do. The dogs had all gotten together by now, and first one 
and then another gave a dog laugh (most people would have called 
it a bark) as they caught a good scent of the varmint. 

The trail where the dogs first struck it was in the cedars on a 
rocky hillside just across the hollow from old man Peterson^s 
house, and the dogs are now working hard to get it away from 
there. 

Because they do not want to bother the dogs, the two hunters 
still keep their distance from them, and for probably ten minutes 
neither said a word, but intently watched the dogs work. 

HFs a pretty cold trail, Jeff,” Bob said finally. 

“Yes; whatever it was must have passed along here just before 
dark.” 

“It must have been either a fox, a wolf or a wildcat,” replies 
Bob, “fooling around here, trying to catch one of old man Peter- 
son^s chickens.” 

“I donfl- think it was a wolf, because there are not many of them 
here,” said Jeff. 

“I hardly think so myself,” agreed Bob. “I think it must have 
been either a fox or a cat.” 

Which one of these it was neither of our friends knew, yet with 
their experience in the woods, and before the dogs had run the 
trail at all, our boys felt perfectly satisfied that if the dogs should 


5 


THE TEXAH 


succeed in working out the trail, and finally, get the animal up, 
that it would either be a fox or a wildcat. But which? Not a 
dog has barked now for about three minutes, except Trailer, the 
puppy. Everybody who has had any experience with puppies 
knows that whenever a puppy gets excited he has to either bark 
or bust, and they generally prefer to bark. 

Not one of the old dogs is paying any attention to Trailer, but 
sniffing and smelling every bush, tree, rock, and almost every inch 
of ground within the radius of a hundred feet of where Old Lead 
struck the trail ; they are trying to see which way the animal went. 

^^Watch Old Brandy circle,’^ said Bob. He is running a com- 
plete circle, keeping his nose close to the ground all the way 
around. Nearly completing the circle around the other dogs, he 
suddenly stops, sniffs the ground again to be sure, and gives 
forth an exulting “Wow !” The very second Brandy barks every 
dog makes a bee line for him, for they all have confidence in 
Brandy, and then such a sniffing and smelling. 

“They’ve got to quit the earth to get away from Old Brandy; 
he’s the best cold trail dog I ever saw,” says Bob. 

“Can’t be beat,” Jeff enthusiastically replies. 

Whether cat or fox, the boys could not tell, because the ground 
was covered with small rocks, and there was no use to hunt for 
tracks. Meanwhile Brandy has gone some ten feet further do^vn 
the hollow and gives voice to another loud “Wow !” which again 
brings all the dogs to his heels with a rush. 

“That’s the way it went,” said Jeff; “they’ll get it up yet.” 

Trailer, the puppy, had by this time flushed a cotton-tail rabbit 
in a near-by thicket, and was now in close pursuit, barking at 
every jump. 

“Old Trailer’s making that cotton bear hunt his hole,” Jeff 
remarked, as the rabbit and dog finally turned in the direction 
of the boys. 

Bob did not reply, but slipping from his saddle he cut a good 
long switch from a near-by sycamore and jumped behind a big 
oak tree that the rabbit had just passed. Trailer did not catch 
the rabbit, but the switch instead, which made him a sadder, but 
a wiser dog. 

The old dogs were now down the hollow some three hundred 


6 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


.yards, slowly working out the trail, which had become fresher, first 
one and then another giving notice by barking that it had caught 
the scent. 

^‘The trail is getting hotter ; let’s get ready,” said Bob. 

^^Which way is the wind?” Jeff asked. Each boy stuck a finger 
in his mouth to wet them, and then held them up to see which 
side would get cold first. 

^^From the south,” they said almost in unison. 

“Where is the Little Dipper?” Bob asked, and the two boys 
eagerly scanned the heavens. 

“Yonder it is; and its handle is pointing southeast,” said Bob. 

“And yonder is the North Star,” said Jefi. 

“Let’s tighten up our girths,” said Bob. 

Remounting they rode slowly towards the dogs, for they have 
completed all necessary arrangements and were now “ready” for 
the race. 

What have tightening the saddle girths, locating the wind and 
the North Star, and the Little Dipper to do with getting ready 
for a race, you ask ? A great deal. In the mad race that will soon 
take place, if the dogs can get the animal up, our boys can’t take 
any chances of a saddle turning because of a loose girth. 
Locating the North Star and the Little Dipper and the way its 
handle is pointing ma}^ be very 'necessary, and then again it may 
not. 

Goodness only knows where our boys vdll be when the race is 
over; they have no time to notice directions while in a race; and 
when it is over they may not know where they are, or even which 
direction home is. They may be miles away. They are hunting 
in the thickest wooded part of the country; the pastures are large 
and the houses far apart, and probably il^ere won’t be anybody to 
ask “which way is .home.” If they get lost they will have to find 
themselves. They may get separated during the race, and may 
not be in hearing distance of each other when it is over; in all 
probability will be where they have never been before. It will not 
only be very comfortable, but also very necessary, to know that 
-the handle of the Little Dipper will be pointing to the southeast. 
In all probability the stars will be their only guide until they can 
get back lo some place that they recognize. 

7 


THE TEXAN 


The wind is in the south now, and will probably remain so until 
the race is over; but, then again, it may change, but the stars 
won’t. It isn’t funny to get lost and lie out in the woods all night ; 
and the folks at home will get uneasy if they don’t get home before 
daylight. So with directions carefully located, both by stars and 
wind, our two boys know that they won’t have to pay any atten- 
tion to directions during the race, and can get back home. “An 
ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.” 

The trail of the animal leads down the hollow, sometimes right 
in it, and sometimes on one side and then on the other. 

Our hunters strike a cowpath running almost parallel with the 
hollow and ride dowm it, keeping as close to the dogs as they can, 
and always in hearing distance. The dogs are warming up to 
their work now, and two or three of them are barking almost con- 
tinuously. The chances for a race are good. 

“Works like an old cat to me,” Bob remarks. “If it was a fox 
he would have quit the hollow before now and gone to the rocky 
hillside and would be trying to double back on the dogs.” 

“I think it is a cat,” replied Jeff; an old cat always hunts the 
rockiest, brushiest hollow it can find and squats around in every 
little thicket.” 

Bob remarked: “I’ve heard all my life and read about ^Sly 
Eeynard,’ and the tricks a fox will work to fool the dogs and make 
them lose the scent ; and a fox is pretty slick, but I have run both 
foxes and cats for a long time, and I would rather try to catch a 
fox any time than to catch an old wildcat which has been run by 
dogs before. I think they are harder to catch than foxes.” 

“I do, too,” Jeff replied, “because sooner or later a fox will run 
in a circle, and you can sit still on your horse and hear most of 
the race, but you always have a hard time getting a cat started; 
but when you do there’s no telling which way it is going to run, 
and you have to keep up with the dogs or they will probably run 
out of hearing, and you’ll never know whether they caught the 
cat or not.” 

“A fox is sly and cute about throwing the dogs off the trail,” 
Bob replies, “but for ” 

He never finished the sentence. 


8 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


^T’hey^e jumped him; theyVe jumped him,” Jeff excitedly ex- 
claims. “IsnT that the prettiest music in the world?” 

Both boys pulled their hats down tight on their heads, put spurs 
to their horses, and the race is on. And such a race as it is. Right 
down the hollow goes the animal into the very roughest places that 
it can find and after it go all the dogs, barking at every jump, 
while Bob and Jeff do their very best to keep up. They soon have 
to quit the cow trail, because it leads down to a water hole in the 
hollow and stops there, and without a path they try to keep paral- 
lel with the hollow, almost fighting their way through the thicket 
and over the honey-comb rocks. They are dressed for rough rid- 
ing, with pants in boots, and old clothes. With their heavy gloves 
they part the bushes and ward off the limbs of the trees. They 
ride through thickets that look impenetrable, and with practiced 
hands they guide their horses over the honey-combed rocks, whOre 
one misstep would probably mean either a broken leg for horse or 
rider. Every time they strike an opening they strike a run. Tak- 
ing advantage of every cowpath, uphill and downhill they go, un- 
consciously performing feats of horsemanship that seem incredible. 

The dogs have quit the hollow now and are running along the 
river bluff, and it becomes necessary for our boys to cross the hol- 
low to get to them. This is much easier said than done, for as it 
nears the river it becomes more rocky and brushy, and is now some 
thirty feet deep. Such a thing as crossing it on -horseback is out 
of the question. But our boys soon find a place where, by dis- 
mounting and leading their horses, it is possible to get down into 
the hollow, and by good luck, some thirty feet down the hollow, 
they find where some cow had once climbed the other bank and 
up this excuse for a way they finally get their horses, and over and 
around the rocks and through the brush they make their way until 
at last it is possible to remount and ride after the dogs once more. 

When they emerge from the hollow, our boys find that the dogs 
are not far away, for whatever it is has been dodging around on 
the bluff trying to lose the dogs. Failing in this, it has decided to 
quit the bluff. It has run up a tree and crawled out on the limbs 
as far as possible and jumped out. A¥hile the dogs are momen- 
tarily puzzled it has slunk down the bluff and through the bottom 
down into the river. 


9 


THE TEXAN 


The water is shallow here — only some two or three inches deep. 
The animal runs up the river some hundred feet or so, keeping in 
the water all the while. Thinking it has gone far enough to fool 
the dogs, it crosses, and, clambering up the op|X)site bank, runs 
rapidly up the bottom on the south side of the river. The dogs 
are not puzzled long at the tree — they have seen that trick played 
before — ^and, not finding the animal up the tree, they begin to 
circle. It is not long before they find where it hit the ground 
when it jumped, and, barking like mad, they all go on the trail to 
the river. 

They come to the river and lap a drink as they push across to 
the opposite bank, but fail to find the trail — the animal did 
not cross there they find. The dogs are bothered, perplexed, but 
not for long, and up and down the river they run trying to find 
where it left the water. Old Eusty is the lucky dog and his loud 
^^Wow brings all the dogs together, and away they go on the 
trail again. 

^^He^s making for the big bluff on Bear Hollow,” says Bob, as 
he sees that the trail leads straight through the open bottom 
towards the big bluff. 

In full cry* the dogs cover the intervening half mile, with the 
horses and hunters close at their heels. Under the bluff are a 
number of large pecan trees, and up one of these the animal has 
run, and when the boys arrive and jump off their horses they 
find all the dogs excitedly running around this tree. Some are 
looking up into the tree and barking, but Old Rusty and Lead are 
not — they are only rearing up on the tree and smelling. 

^‘Doesn’t look good to me, or Old Lead and Old Rusty would be 
talking to him,” said Jeff. 

Bob had his misgivings, too, but he says nothing, and together 
the two boys eagerly scan every limb on the old pecan. Finding no 
animal they try it over, this time getting the limbs between them 
and the moon ; they try to skxdight the animal. 

^^Nothing doing, Jeff,” says Bob, after this second inspection. 

What could have become of the animal, whatever it was? Had 
our boys been negroes, in all probability they would have concluded 
that the dogs had treed a ^^Speerit” and would have made tracks 
away from there as fast as their horses could carry them. It did 


10 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


look uncanny, for surely the animal had gone up that tree, and 
hadnT jumped out, because the dogs had already circled the tree 
several times. Yet it was not up there now, and there was no 
hollow or hole in the tree. Where had it gone? 

“It couldn’t have jumped out on top of the bluff,” says Jeff, 
“because the top of the tree grows away from the bluff, and it 
couldn’t possibly make it up there; and there is no other tree close 
enough for it to jump into from this one. I’d bet my head that 
it went up this tree and didn’t come down again. Where can 
it be?” 

“Darned if I know,” Bob replies; and it’s hard to tell which are 
the more puzzled, the boys or the dogs. 

“Let’s go up on the top of the bluff. Bob, and see if it’s possible 
for it to have jumped out on top.” 

Suiting the action to the word the boys go around the bluff, and 
are soon standing on the top looking at the tree and the dogs below. 

“Xo animal in the world could make that jump, Jeff; it’s at 
least thirty feet from here to the tree, and we are just about even 
with the top of it.” 

As Bob finished speaking Old Lead, who had satisfied himself 
that the animal was not in the tree, walks up between the boys, 
goes closer to the edge of the bluff, sniffs the air and gives a loud 
bark. 

“He smells it somewhere, sure,” Bob excitedly exclaims. “Wait 
a minute.” He catches hold of a bush grovdng right on the edge 
of the bluff, leans forward on tiptoe and looks down, and there, 
on a little projecting ledge of rock, about two-thirds of the way 
up the bluff and out of sight of the dogs at the bottom, lies the 
biggest wildcat in the woods. The cunning old cat had run up 
the tree and jumped out on this little ledge; and there it was lying, 
feeling perfectly secure from molestation. 

“Here it is, Jeff; here it is, and it’s the biggest old cat I ever — ” 

He didn’t have time to finish the sentence, for Old Lead saw the 
cat, and making a rush to get to it, he knocks Bob’s feet out from 
under him — the limb breaks and down goes Bob, the dog and The 
limb right on top of the old wildcat. 


11 


CHAPTER II. 


^‘Mama, what in the world is this ? I can’t make heads or tails 
out of it,” eagerly inquired Merle Bullington of her mother, as she 
rushed into the living room of their home in Virginia one cold day 
of January in 1879. She had just returned from the postoffice; 
her cheeks were red, her face aglow, for without it was snowing. 

“Let me see, daughter.” 

Merle took off her wraps, sat down on the arm of her mother’s 
rocking chair and lovingly put one arm around her mother’s neck, 
and with heads close together mother and daughter intently 
perused the mysterious little slip of paper. 

“Where did you get it, daughter?” 

“It came in brother’s letter. The Texas mail was just in and 
sure enough there was a letter for me in it from dear old J eff ; he’s 
the best brother in the world. He is well, but says he is awful 
anxious to see us. Let me see what he says about this. 0, yes, 
here it is: T enclose you a little slip of paper which my friend 
Bob Lee asked me to send. Guess it will keep you out of mischief 
until you find out what it is.’ That’s every word he says about 
it. Mama. I wonder what it is,” and again both mother and 
daughter gave their undivided attention to the perplexing piece of 
paper, and here is what they saw: 

“Okuu Ogtng: 

“Aqwt Dtqvjgt Lghh Jcu Lwuv Ujqyp Og C Rkevwtg Qh C 
Xgta Hkpg Hqqmkpi Aqwpi Ncfa Yjq Jg Ucau Hkxgu Uqogyjgtg 
Kp Xktikpkc-Jgt Xcvguv Rjqvqitcrj Jg Ucau. K Yqpfqgt Yjq 
Ujg Ecp Dg. Ecp Kv Dg Jku Xktikpkc Uyggv-jgctv? Rngcug 
Hkpf Qwv Hqt Og Cpf Xgv Og Mpqy Yjgvjgt Vjgtg Ctg Cpa 
Oqtg Cv Jqog Xkmg Jgt. 

“Aqwt Htkgpf, 

“Tqdgtv.” 

“0, I’ll tell you what it is, daughter; it is a code letter,” said 
Mrs. Bullington. 

“What is that. Mama ? I never saw a code letter in my life.” 


12 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


“You’ve always heard it said, daughter, ‘that all is not gold 
that glitters/ That is just another way of saying that things are 
not always what they seem. Many things in this life are not what 
they seem, and a code letter is one of them. The letters on that 
code letter are not what they seem to he. Now you see it is signed 
‘Tqdgtv.’ You see that does not spell anything or make any sense, 
but find the key and find out what letters ‘Tqdgtv’ really are, and 
it will probably be some one’s name — the signature of whoever 
wrote the letter.” 

“0, I know that already. Mama; it’s Bob Lee. Brother said in 
his letter that Mr. Bob Lee asked him to send it to me, but I don’t 
see how ‘Tqdgtv’ spells Bob Lee, do you?” 

“No, I don’t, daughter; but I guess it spells it some way. You 
see there are six letters in Bob Lee, and there are just six letters 
in ‘Tqdgtv.’ Let me see ‘Tqdgtv.’ Bob Lee. T would have to be 
B, q would be o, d would be h, g would be L, t would be e, and v 
would have also to be e. I don’t see how t and v both could be e, 
unless V is just a repeater for the letter before it.” 

“But, Mama, you said T would have to be B and how could it 
be e, too ? And, Mama, if T is B^ how can d he h ?” 

“Well, daughter, my explanation that time was like a good many 
explanations — it did not explain. We will have to try again, but 
we have not time now, for it is time for us to be getting up our 
night work. This is going to be a bitter cold night, and we must 
get the horse fed and the cows milked, and the wood and coal in 
before night. How it does hurt your poor Papa to have us do the 
man’s work about the place, but that old wound he got during the 
war is getting the better of him, and I fear poor old Papa will 
never get up any more.” 

“Well, Mama, we will hope for the best.” 

And the brave girl, without a word of protest, and although her 
curiosity was consuming her, put away the code letter and mother 
and daughter went about getting their chores done before dark. 

After supper, when the dishes were washed and put away, the 
precious code letter was brought forth once more. 

“Mama, please help me read it.” And soon mother and daugh- 
ter were again hunting for the hidden key that would unlock the 
message of the code letter. 


13 


THE TEXAH 


^‘Let’s get at it another way, daughter. Here is a C that stands 
off by itself and is a word. Now (7 must be one of the vowels, 
and it canT be any one but A or I, because those are the only 
vowels that are a word by themselves, so C must be either A or 1/* 

^^Mama, here^s another C out by itself, and there is a X out by 
itself; maybe X is A or I/' 

^Tt is daughter; well we are making progress; we know this 
much: C and K are A and /, but which one is I, and which 
one A f 

‘‘Hurrah, Mama; we’ll get it yet, won’t we?” 

“0, yes, my dear, it may take a little time, but we can work it 
out.” 

“Mama, those first two words in the letter ‘Okuu’ and ‘Ogtng’; 
don’t you suppose that is the address?” 

“Certainly, it is.” 

“Mama, ‘Okuu’ is just four letters, do you reckon ‘Okuu’ can 
be dearf and the conscious girl blushed in spite of herself. 

The mother smiled as she answered, “No, my dear I don’t think 
‘Okuu’ can be dear, because you see the last two letters of ‘Okuu’ 
are the same, and u could not be a and r also ; and then we have 
already found out that K is either A or I, and consequently can 
not be ef' 

“Well, Mama, don’t you suppose ‘Ogtng’ must be Merle f’ 

“Let’s see, daughter; perhaps you are correct; if so, the second 
and last letters would have to be the same to match the e’s in 
Merle/’ 'X-, 

“They are. Mama; they* are. The second lefter is g and the last 
letter is g, so ‘Ogtng’ must be Merle. 0 must be M, g must be e, 
t must be r, n must be I and, of course, g is e. We’ve almost got 
the key. Mama; we’ve almost got it,” and the girl almost trembled 
with excitement. 

“I believe I have it, daughter, 0 is M, and 0 is just two letters 
after M in the alphabet; g is e, and g is two letters after e; ^ is r, 
and t is just two letters after r. That’s it, every letter in the code 
is really the second letter before it in the alphabet; that’s the key; 
now let’s try it that way,” and before long the code letter was per- 
fectly plain. It read: 


14 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


“Miss Merle: 

“Your brother Jeff has just shown me a picture of a very fine- 
looking young lady, who he says lives somewhere in Virginia — her 
latest photograph he says. I wonder who she can be. Can it be his 
Virginia sweetheart? Please find out for me, and let me know 
whether there are any more at home like her. 

“Your friend, 

“Kobert.^^ 

“No wonder we got mixed up on the signature. Mama, for it 
wasn’t Bob Lee at all, but Eobert.” 

“It's all perfectly plain now, daughter; and you have heard 
Jeff say Bob Lee so much that you naturally thought he would 
sign his name that way, but I suppose that Mr. Lee thought that 
Eobert was more dignified than Bob Lee, especially in writing to 
a young lady whom he has never met.” 

“Mama, won’t you help me fix up a code? I have to get even 
with Bob — I mean Mr. Eobert — in some way.” 

“I once knew a code, daughter; let me see if I can recall it. 
Yes, it was a letter code also; let me see how it went. The last 
letter of the alphabet was the first letter. The next to the last 
letter of the code was the next to the first letter of the regular al- 
phabet ; yes, that’s it. Z was A, and vice versa. A was Z, Y was 
B, and vice versa, B was Y , X was C, W was D, V was E, U was 
F, T was G, 8 was H, R was I, P was K, 0 was L, and M was V. 
Now you can send Mr. Eobert ‘A Eoland for his Oliver.’ ” 

“0, thank you. Mama, thank you,” cried the delighted girl, and 
in the next letter she wrote to her brother Jeff she enclosed the 
following : 

“Nrhgvi Uozggvivi: 

“Blf Xvigzrmob Szev Z Evib Xfgv Dzb Lu Kzbrmt Z Trio Z 
Xlnkornvmg — Nzprmt Lfg Zh Eu Blf Wlm’g Pmld Svi Krxgfiv 
Zogslfts Blf Ulfmw Eg Em Svi Yilgsvi’h Klhhvhhrlm. Gszmp 
Blf. Ziv Gsviv Zmb Em Gvczh Orpv Blf? 

“Blfi TJirvmw, 

“Nviov.” 

“Please hand the enclosed to our mutual friend, Mr. Eobert 
Lee,” was all she said about it in the letter. 

15 


CHAPTEK III. 


Old Lead went first and lit squarely on the cat’s back, while 
Bob, a second later, fell sprawling between the cat and the bluff, 
and, being unable to stop himself, rolled against both cat and dog, 
knocking them off the ledge. This was the luckiest thing that 
could have happened to Bob, for it checked his fall momentarily, 
and almost by superhuman effort he clutched the ledge of rock 
and kept from falling over the ledge himself. 

^^Are you hurt, Bob?” Jeff anxiously inquired, as he peered over 
the bluff. 

^‘No, I think not,” comes back the reassuring answer, ^^just a 
few' bruises, and my nose is bleeding considerably.” 

^^0, w^ell if that’s all, you won’t know the difference a hundred 
years from now. I’m glad it’s not worse; but how^ in the dickens 
are you going to get away from where you are?” 

That was the question, and it took several minutes for our boys 
to decide it. Finally Bob said: “I’ll tell you a plan that will 
work, Jeff; you get both tie ropes off the horses and tie them 
together. Tie one end to that tree and throw me the other end, 
and I can coon it up to where you are.” 

“Two heads are always better than one, if one is a sheep’s head,” 
quoted Jeff, and away he hurries after the ropes and horses, and 
soon Bob coons it up the rope to the top of the bluff. 

Old Lead and the wildcat would probably have both been killed 
when they fell over the cliff if they had not had their fall broken 
by a swinging tree before they hit ‘the ground ; and lucky dog that 
he was. Old Lead fell on top when he finally hit the ground. He 
received a terrible jolt, but fortunately broke no bones. I imagine 
he felt like the Irishman who fell off of a two-story building and 
said, “Be jabbers, it wasn’t the fall that hurt me; it was the sud- 
den stop.” 

The old eat was worse bruised than Old Lead, but was able 
to go, and before the dogs could recover from their astonishment, 
it was up and off. It gave the dogs the dodge in the upper end of 
the bottom and was now making all possible speed to cross the 
Leander road and reach its cave in Nelson’s pasture. 

16 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


“Where are the dogs?” was the first question Bob asked as he 
got on top of the bluff. 

“They have either run out of hearing or lost out one,” Jeff re- 
plied, disconsolately, as he listened for several minutes without 
hearing a sound of the dogs. 

“They’ve found the trail again; that’s Old Brandy.” And by 
the time the boys are mounted the whole pack is in full cry and 
the race is on again. 

“I’m afraid our cake’s all dough this time. Bob; it is making 
for the cave, and that loss threw the dogs so far behind I’m afraid 
it is not possible for them to head it off.” 

“We’ll try,’^ Bob laconically replied; and the pace they set is 
terrific, the horses straining every nerve as they race after the 
dogs. The dogs are still some distance behind the old cat, when 
suddenly, some distance ahead of the dogs, our boys hear some- 
body yelling loudly and seemingly making all the noise possible. 

“What does that mean, Jeff?” 

“That’s Eoy and Will, Bob.” 

And sure enough it was. They had gone up the Leander road 
as agreed, and, hearing the dogs coming that way, had brought 
their horses to a stop and quietly awaited developments. 

“Things were coming their way,” as the old saying is, and they 
hadn’t been there long before the old cat came in sight. Xot 
looking for danger ahead, he was paying attention to the dogs be- 
hind and did not see Eoy and Will until running at full speed he 
had come out into a little opening before reaching the fence. 
And then a racket, such as he had never heard before, opened up 
ahead of him. 

The boys, as well as Bob and Jeff, knew where the old cat was 
making for ; and they knew the only show to keep it from reaching 
its cave was to turn it back. That would have been impossible 
had it been real near the cave, for an old wildcat will run over 
you to get to its cave if you are right at it, but, fortunately, the 
cave was still some distance away, and when the wild hullaballoo 
arose in front of it, it had the desired effect to scare the old cat 
and it turned and almost ran into Old Hunter, who was leading 
the dogs. 

It didn’t take Eoy and Will long to get into the race, for almost 

17 


THE TEXAN 


quicker than it takes to tell it they had jumped down, pulled up 
two posts of the wire fence, laid the posts flat and stood on them, 
led the horses across the wire fence now lying flat on the ground, 
put the posts back into the holes, and the fence was up as good as 
new. They quickly remounted their horses, which were now on 
the same side of the fence as the dogs, and away they go after 
the dogs. 

The old cat is doing its best to reach the bluff again. Around 
and around the dogs take it, now through this thicket now through 
that. It can’t pick places to run now. First one dog cuts it off 
and then another — it has to run where it can, and not where it 
wants to. All four boys are together now and helping the dogs 
in every way that they can — yelling like demons whenever they 
catch sight of the old cat. 

I tell you hoys who are reading this that you don’t know what 
fun you’ve missed if you have never had an experience like this. 
You can talk about your horse races, your fishing or your foot- 
ball — tame, all tame. For good, old, genuine fun and excitement 
give me a moonlight night, a good pack of dogs in full cry, and a 
wildcat race like this down in good old Texas ! If you ever get a 
chance, boys, try it. It will surely make your blood tingle when 
you’re expecting every minute for some dog to pick up the old 
cat; and if you never saw boys rustle before, you’ll see it then, so 
as to be right there when the dogs do catch the cat and the fight 
comes off. You won’t care for a few scratches and torn clothes; 
you’ll rustle and you’ll ride. There’s nothing like it, boys ; there’s 
nothing like it. 

Our English cousins when they ride to the hounds and strive to 
be the first to get the brush of the fox think they are having great 
sport, and they are, but chasing a fox in England is not to be com- 
pared to chasing a wildcat in Texas. Our English cousins have 
comparatively good country to ride over, and while they sometimes 
have accidents to horse or rider, there is not the same degree of 
danger ever present as when you are chasing a wildcat over the 
roughest country you can imagine. A fox when caught makes only 
one effort at a fight; in fact, stands no show with one dog, much 
less with a pack. An old wildcat will fight the whole pack of 
dogs. It is a past grand master in the art of fighting and able 

18 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


to deliver the goods, too. One slap of its paw will split a dog^s 
ear into ribbons, and it will give a whole pack of dogs a hard 
fight. Our English cousins are in the freshman class — they are 
on the right road — but Texans with their wildcat races are seniors ; 
in fact, post-graduates in the art of having fun. 

^^Head it off from the creek, Eoy,’’ yells Will, and both boys 
dart in between the old cat and the river. But the dogs are crowd- 
ing it too close ; the old cat had to get to that creek, and, running 
under Eoy’s horse, it plunges into ‘ffhe old goose hole” and the 
dogs in after it. The race becomes a swimming match instead 
of a race. Any boy who has been in swimming will know what 
I mean when I say that the old cat and the dogs were having a 
game of ^^catcher” in the water. This is where the old cat was 
wise, for it can outswim the dogs, and straight for the other shore 
it swims, leaving the dogs farther and farther behind. 

Will it get away after all? It certainly looks that way. But 
Jeff and Bob see the situation, and dashing around the head of 
^The old goose hole,” where they can cross without swimming, they 
run to the other shore, rapidly dismount, each grab a dead limb 
from a near-by pile of driftwood, and, reaching the bank, stand 
ready to give the old cat a warm reception. Xot a minute too 
soon, either, for it is not twenty feet away now, and coming fast. 
They yell at it like demons; they grab up rocks and throw at it; 
they hit all around it, but in their excitement miss it — it still 
comes on. The cat is too close for rocks now ; it is crowding our 
boys. They grab the dead limbs and beat the water in front of 
it; they splash the water in its face, but the old cat still comes on. 
Enemies are in front of it, enemies behind it, and if it can just make 
a landing and break by the enemies in front safety lies nearer in 
that direction, and so on it comes. It is in reach of the dead 
limbs now; our boys stand their ground — the fight is fast and 
furious. Jeff slips and falls; Bob aims a mighl^ blow at the 
cat’s head. He hits it a sliding lick, but does not stop it; his 
rotten limb breaks in two; he is right in the middle of a bad fix. 
What will he do? What can he do? The old cat was within 
three feet of the bank now. Jeff is down, his own weapon is 
broken. No time to think; he acts on the impulse. He must turn 
that cat back. He leaps into the air and lands on top of the old 

19 


THE TEXAH 


cafs head with his heavy boots. You could have heard his yell 
a mile away when he struck the cold water, and both cat and boy 
went out of sight under the water. Bob knows that it will never 
do to let the old cat get a chance at him with its claws, and as 
they near the bottom of the river he gives such a vicious kick that 
he rams the old cat^s head in the mud on the bottom and throws 
himself backward away from the cat. Both came to the top about 
the same time, but several feet apart. 

To jump on a wildcat was certainly a strenuous way to carry 
a point, but on the spur of the moment he did the only thing 
that was left to do. And it won out, too; for when the old cat 
came to the surface it came up right by Old Hunter, and he grabbed 
it, and the fight was on. With one stroke of its mighty paw the 
old cat sent Old Hunter under, but the dog wouldnT let go his 
hold, and the cat got a ducldng, too. When they came to the top 
the other dogs had swum up, and such a fight as they did have ! 

Bob had gotten out of the water by this time, looking like a 
drowned rat. All four boys — two on one side of the creek and 
two on the other — were yelling like maniacs and encouraging the 
dogs. The dogs and the old cat were in the water fighting like 
demons, and even Trailer, the puppy, had come around to where 
Bob and Jeff were and stood on the bank barking and adding his 
part to the general commotion. 

The old cat had the dogs at a disadvantage in the water. True, 
they were worrjdng it considerably, but whenever one got within 
reach, one stroke of its paw generally sent the unlucky dog to 
the bottom. Even Trailer, the puppy, was finally persuaded to 
go in and get into the scrap, and the old cat promptly sent him to 
the bottom, too. It scared him nearly to. death," for he had never 
been under water before, and when he came to the surface he made 
for the bank, where he stood barking furiously — mad, but afraid. 

The dogs were now getting tired out, and one after another they 
swam to the bank to rest, and would then go in again. This nearly 
cost Old Lead his life, for the old cat, taking advantage of a 
time when the other dogs were catching their breath on the bank, 
and having only one tormenter after it, savagely attacked Old 
Lead. They both rise in the water as far as possible. Old Lead 
makes a desperate lunge to grab the cat’s throat, but misses. The 

20 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


old cat tears one of the dog^s ears into shreds with one paw; it 
pounces on the dog, grabs him by the back of the neck, shoves 
him under, and holds him there. Will it succeed in drowning 
Old Lead ? Is this to be the noble old dog^s last fight ? Hero of a 
hundred battles with wildcats, is he to be ignominiously drowned 
by a wildcat at last? Not if Bob can help it. 

“Get me a pole, Jeff,” he cries, jumps on his pony and rides 
into the river. He yells like mad at the old cat. Getting close 
enough he punches at the cat with the pole, and using it as a 
lance he pushes it off of Old Lead, and the half-drowned dog 
comes to the top of the water. 

Not a bit too soon was Bob’s gallant rescue. Ten seconds more 
and Old Lead would have been drowned. The other old dogs fol- 
low Bob in, and now tackle the old cat again. But it fights free 
of them, and makes for the bank, closely followed by the dogs. 
It is a critical moment. Will it get away? 

Eoy and Will are on the other side of the creek; Bob still in 
the water and can’t stop it; Jeff is on the bank, but has nothing 
to stop it with; the old dogs are doing their best to catch it, but 
can’t. There is nothing between the old cat and safety except 
Trailer, the puppy, and nobody expects anything of him. 

The critical moment in the life of Trailer, the puppy, had come, 
and he had to show what sort of stuff he was made of. He came 
of fighting stock, and grandly now he rises to the occasion. 

“Sick him. Trailer; sick him. Trailer,” frantically yells Jeff, 
and much to everybody’s surprise the puppy obeys. It was done 
so quickly that Jeff hardly knew how it happened, but he thinks 
the cat was watching him when Trailer grabbed it by the throat 
and held on. The old cat squalled ; it clawed viciously at Trailer ; 
got on top of the puppy, got him down, and bit him. Jeff kicked 
the cat off, and, through it all, the puppy still held his grip on 
the old cat’s throat, and did not turn loose until the old dogs got 
there and the cat was killed. 

“That’ll do now,” said Bob, and took the lifeless body away 
from the dogs. Trailer was the last dog to let go. And then what 
a jollification there was ! 

They had had a hard run and a harder fight, but what did it 
matter if Jeff had torn his pants nearly off, or that Bob was as 

21 


TJIE TEXAN 


wet as a drowned rat, or that Old Lead’s and Old Trailer’s ears 
were bleeding? They were all honorable scars. The old cat was 
caught and killed at last, and that made up for all the bruises. 

It would have been hard to tell who was the happiest boy in the 
crowd, but it was no trouble to tell which was the happiest dog, 
for Trailer, the puppy, was so proud of himself and shovved it so 
plainly and so condescendingly did he look down on the old dogs 
that I doubt if he thought there was a dog that could be com- 
pared to him. 

^^Eight here is where we cook our meat and I get dry,” said Bob. 

The fire is soon blazing merrily and sending out scores of 
sparks; the meat is brought from the saddle pockets, and salt and 
pepper put on it; forked sticks are cut to stick through the meat 
and hold it to the fire; the pickles and light bread are brought. 
Bob dries himself by the fire; the worn-out dogs lie down and 
rest, and each boy pets each dog in turn as they call them to the 
fire and examine their wounds, the dogs wagging back their 
‘Thank-yous” with their tails, and the tired boys lie around the 
fire and watch the meat cook. 

While they are lying there waiting for the meat to cook, let me 
introduce you to Jeff; I promised you I would. 

I know that you are going to ask me about him, so I’ll tell 
you without your asking. His name is Jefferson Davis Bullington, 
named after Jefferson Davis, the President of the Confederate 
States. He is about twenty-one years old, and has been in Texas 
about three years. He is a native Virginian, and his father and 
mother, Jim and Emma Bullington, still live on the old home 
farm near Staunton, Virginia. He has no brothers ; but his sister, 
Merle, who is now a miss of eighteen, is very anxious that her 
father and mother shall sell the old farm and move to Texas, so 
they can all be with her brother Jeff, whom she almost idolizes. 
Jeff’s character is Al, “all wool and a yard wide”; and while he 
is not as much a man physically as Bob, being tall and slender, 
yet look at his face there in the firelight and you will see that he 
has a strong character. He is well educated, too. You would 
never know by just looking at him that he took first honors at 
Harvard, but he did. He is a diamond in the rough, and no 
wonder that he and Bob Lee are chums, because, in addition to 

22 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


being near the same age, they have many ideas in common. In 
addition to all that, a certain tender regard which Jeff has de- 
veloped for Laura Lee (Bob’s sister), and a few nice messages 
that Merle Bullington has sent Bob in her letters to Jeff, have all 
conspired to draw the two boys closer together. 


23 


CHAPTER lY. 


Without a word he handed Bob Lee the telegram. 

“WhaPs the matter, Jeff?” Bob asked as he unfolded the tele- 
gram. 

^^Bad news from home, Bob,” and his tall form quivered and 
tears sprang into his eyes. 

IPs awful to see a strong man shed tears. Some shallow, weak, 
and excitable characters calling themselves men are ready to burst 
into tears at the slightest provocation, and a sure-enough man has 
a contempt for such a baby; but when it comes to a strong char- 
acter — strong enough in his manhood to control himself under any 
ordinary circumstances — ^whenever a man like that sheds tears, 
there is something to shed tears for, and instead of blaming him 
and thinking him feminine, our hearts always go out to such a 
man in deepest sympathy. Such a man was Jeff Bullington, and 
before he opened the telegram Bob Lee’s sympathy went out to 
his chum. 

“Staunton, Virginia, April 19, 1879. 
“Jefferson Bullington, Georgetown, Texas: 

“Come at once. Father is dying and is calling for you. 

“Merle Bullington.” 

Bob Lee said nothing, but folded the telegram and handed it 
back to Jeff. 

“When do you leave, old boy?” he finally asked, and his face 
showed the sorrow that his lips did not express. 

All he said that could even be construed as sympathy was, “old 
boy.” To most people to be addressed under such circumstances 
as “old boy” would have meant but little, but to Jeff Bullington, 
who knew Bob Lee so well, it meant that the depths of his friend’s 
heart had been touched, and “old boy” meant much. It really 
meant more of real sympathy than the many words of those who 
would add word to word in trying to express how very sympathetic 
they were. 

“I leave on the 3 :38 train, Bob.” 

“Is there anything I can do for you while you are gone, Jeff?” 

24 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


I guess not, Bob; thank you. Yes, I’d be glad if you 
would look after my pony.” 

‘^Sure, I’ll look after him. How long do you think you’ll be 
gone, Jeff?” 

^^Of course that I can’t tell ; if father dies I’ll have to make some 
arrangements about taking care of mother and Merle. I have not 
had time to think what would be best. I’ll get back as soon as I 
can, for they need me at the store. Poor old father ! He did not 
want me to come to Texas; he said it was so far away from Vir- 
ginia, and he was right about it being a long ways off. I realize 
it now, for I can’t possibly get home, I fear, before he dies; how 
I wish I could,” and the unbidden tears again rolled down his 
cheeks. 

^^Don’t blame yourself, old boy; I’m sure you did what you 
thought was for the best when you came to Texas.” 

^^Yes, Bob, I know I did. When I left home father was well 
and didn’t need me; it was all he could do to make a living for 
mother and Merle. He had done a good part by me and had given 
me a good education. There wasn’t much in Virginia I could hope 
to do except make a living, while here in Texas the opportunities 
for a young man to make something out of himself are so very 
many I felt like I couldn’t stay in Virginia — I felt like I must 
come to Texas and get a start. My ambition has been to get 
enough ahead so that I could bring the family here after I had 
made a home for them for their old age. I have saved some money, 
too ; the home folks don’t know it, but I have about three thousand 
dollars in the bank. I was anxious for summer to come, for I in- 
tended going back after them; but I am too late, I’m too late.” 

^^Good-bye, old boy, write me when you get home,” was all Bob 
said as he gave Jeff’s hand a hearty grip and with tears in his own 
eyes walked away. 

^4s***Hs**sf! 

^^Staunton, Virginia, Apr. 24, 1879. 
^^Eobert E. Lee, Georgetown, Texas: 

^^Hear Old Boy: We buried father yesterday. When Merle 
wired me they thought he was dying, but after they told him that 
I was coming he seemed to revive, and his whole effort from that 


25 


THE TEXAN 


time on seemed to be to live until he could see me. I thank God 
that he succeeded, and when I arrived he was perfectly rational, 
although very low, and I will never forget the sweet smile that 
played over his face when I went to his bedside. He seemed to 
think that he was going to die, but with grim determination he 
had made up his mind to live until he could see me. You know 
he bore the reputation of being a fighter during the war, and in 
this last fight with Death he carried his point, in spite of the 
doctor’s prediction to the contrary. Mother and Merle were afraid 
that my coming would excite him, but it did not. The doctor went 
out home with me, for he, too, feared father might die from the 
excitement of seeing me, but soon saw how mistaken he was. After 
examining father he told us confidentially that he believed my com- 
ing had done him good, and he saw no reason why he might not 
last several days, as his vitality was wonderful. Little he realized 
the grim fight my father had been making against Death, and that 
his determination to give up the fight and die after seeing me was 
as great as not to die until he saw me. As soon as the doctor was 
gone, and no one was in the room but mother,, Merle and I, father, 
as quietly as if he had been discussing the weather, said: ‘My 
dear ones, I’m going to die. I’ve been waiting for Jeff to come 
and have a talk with him, and then I’ll go to my long home. That 
old wound I got during the war has been getting the best of me 
now for some time, and I must go. It’s all right, though. I am 
a Christian, and I don’t fear to meet my God; I want you to see 
how a Christian and an old Confederate soldier can die. I’m not 
afraid of death. I’ve never known what fear was during this life, 
and I’m not afraid of death now. No Yankee ever scared me dur- 
ing the war — in fact, the whole battle of life I’ve fought out as 
best I could, having confidence in myself and fearing no man. 
I’ve tried to live an upright life; to raise my children right, and 
to do my duty as I saw it; to treat everybody right, and now that 
I have to go, I do so without any fear of my future, for long ago 
Christ has become precious to me as my Savior. As I must die, 
I’m so glad to die for my country, for it is the old wound I got 
in the war that is carrying me off. I fought during the war for 
the right as I saw it, and I have seen no reason since to change 
my opinion. I fought for the right, and I am dying because I 


26 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


fought for that and for my country. The Yankees overpowered 
us because they had all the advantage, but they never did whip us.^ 
^Father/ I said, ^donT talk any more about the war,’ for I saw 
the old fire in his eye as he lived over again in memory the days 
that tried men’s souls. You know father named me after Jeffer- 
son Davis, and he died as he had lived — unreconstructed. ^You 
are right, my son,’ he said, ^and after I am dead,’ he continued 
quietly, T think it best for you to sell the farm and all go to 
Texas, where you can look after mother and Merle better. About 
the only regret I have in dying is because I do not leave you dear 
ones in as good shape financially as I would wish. But then I 
don’t owe anything, and you can sell the farm for several thousand 
dollars; and there will be the money from my life insurance pol- 
icy.’ ^Oh, father !’ I broke in, T hate to hear you talk about such 
things; don’t worry about us.’ ‘That’s the only thing that is 
worrying me now,’ he quietly replied. ‘Father,’ I said, ‘I think 
I ought to tell you now — I’ve a pleasant surprise for you. I’ve 
saved enough to buy a home in Texas; I’ve three thousand dollars 
to my credit in the bank at home.’ With a most beautiful smile 
illuminating his whole face he said, ‘Thank God, I die happy; 
good-bye,’ and he was gone. Of course I know your great heart 
goes out to me in sympathy. Bob, and yet I am sure you can’t 
know exactly what it means to lose a father. The new responsi- 
bility of looking after mother and Merle is upon me now — I’ve 
never known what responsibility meant before. I find Virginia 
about the same as it was when I left it — it looks so old and slug- 
gish compared to Texas. Our friends here have been so kind; I 

can never forget them. Mother, Merle and I have talked the 

matter over and we have' decided that father knew best, and that 
it is best for us all to come to Texas. Mother naturally hates to 
leave here. Father is buried here, you know, and then she does 
not like to leave her old friends here, especially since they have 
been so very kind to her. I think she tries to look at it sensibly, 

for she feels that the better part of her life is past and that in the 

future she ought to live wherever it vdll be best for Merle and me. 
Merle, of course, hates to leave her friends here, but you know she 
has been anxious to move to Texas for some time. I will start 
home day after to-morrow, as I must get back, and mother and 

27 


THE TEXAN 


Merle will stay here a while to sell the live stock and the farm. 
They expect to leave for Texas in about a month from now. We 
are as well as could he expected under the circumstances. 

^^Your friend, 

Bullington.” 


28 


CHAPTEE V. 


About two months after the events recorded in last chapter, 
one day Bob Lee was walking down the street with his little sister 
Bessie when JefE Bullington came up to them. 

‘‘Hello, Bess, how old would you be if you were fat?’^ was his 
salutation. 

“’Bout sixteen, I guess; Pm six now.” 

“Well, what would your name be if you were fat?” 

“Fatty Lee, I guess.” 

“0, Bess, you’ll do,” he laughed. 

“Bob, just had a telegram from Mother; she and Merle 
will be in on the noon train; I’ve engaged board for them at Mrs. 
Harrel’s until we go to housekeeping. Bess, suppose you bring 
Bob and Laura over to see them to-night.” 

“All right, Mr. Jeff, I think Buddie will want to go anyhow; 
don’t you, Buddie?” and Buddie said, “Why, certainly. Kid,” but 
he looked rather sheepish. 

After supper, true to her promise, Bess, her brother Bob and 
sister Laura went to see the newcomers. She felt very important 
as, leading one by each hand as if they were bashful children, she 
marched in. Jeff did the honors in his off-hand way: 

“Mother, this is Bob, and this is his sister Laura. This is sister 
Merle, Laura ; I know you girls will like each other. This is Bob 
Lee, sister.” 

The greetings were cordial, the pleasure of meeting each other 
mutual, but the pretty bow that Merle made before she advanced 
to take his hand seemed to Bob Lee to be a little ahead of any- 
thing he had ever seen. Tlmth to tell. Bob Lee’s heart was not the 
only one going pit-a-pat just then. 

“I don’t feel as though we need a formal introduction; we al- 
ready know so much of each other,” said Mrs. Bullington. 

“I didn’t give you one,” said Jeff, and looking around he dis- 
covered Bess, with her finger in her mouth, standing back like a 
slighted child. 

“Bless my soul, I was about to forget the Kid. Excuse me, 
Bess; Mother, this is Bessie Lee.” 

29 


THE TEXAN 


^^Bless her heart/’ said Mrs. Bullington^ as mother-like she drew 
the child up to her and kissed her. 

^^So this is Bessie, is it?’^ 

^^No’m, I’m just Bess. Buddie says it might make me bow- 
legged to carry around a big name like Bessie till I get stronger; 
I’m just Bess now — maybe they’ll call me Bessie when I get 
grown,” 

^^All right, “^Bess’ it shall be,” laughed Mrs. Bullington as she 
gave the child another hug. 

^^Come and see me, Bess,” said Merle, and the confiding child 
crawled up into her lap and said: 

“Miss Merle, did Buddie squeeze your hand when you shook 
hands with him a while ago? I told him not to ’cause it hurts, 
but I believe he did ’cause I watched him, and your face turned 
red. Did he hurt your hand?” 

The effect of her innocent inquiry could better be imagined than 
described. 

“Why, no,” stammered out Merle, and I hope the recording 
angel did not put it down against her. 

“I always give a hearty handshake to everybody,” Bob explained. 
“I hate to shake hands with anj^body and have my hand feel like 
a wet dish-rag.” 

“You’re right, Mr. Lee,” said Mrs, Bullington; “I like a hearty 
handshake myself; it has some heart in it. A shallow nature 
never gives a hearty handshake — ^actions speak louder than, words’ 
anyway.” 

The hiatus was bridged, “all was quiet on the Potomac” again. 
The youthful regulator of the Lee family seemed satisfied that 
Buddie had not committed the unpardonable sin. After that the 
conversatipn became general. 

“Did you have a pleasant trip out here, Mrs. Bullington?” asked 
Bob Lee. 

“A very pleasant trip, indeed, Mr. Lee, especially after we 
reached Texas. But my, how big this State must be ! Yesterday 
evening when we reached Texarkana, and they told us that we 
were in Texas, Merle thought surely we were almost to George- 
town. I’m sure she thought we would get to Georgetown by bed- 
time last night, and we both thought that we must have made some 


30 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


mistake about the time of our arrival here, and would not be con- 
vinced otherwise until we looked up the time table and found that 
we were still over five hundred miles off. Just think of that! 
Here you live near the center of the State and the railroad we 
came on runs almost in a straight line, and we had to come over 
five hundred miles after we got into the State to get here 

^^Yes,” replied the Texan, ‘‘Texas is a State of immense dis- 
tances — she is the Empire State, you know — and were you to 
keep on from here in the same direction you have been going you 
would have to travel about six hundred miles more to reach the 
western border. Ifs nearly eleven hundred miles across Texas 
by rail. She is a whopper.’^ 

“And your wild fiowers are so pretty,’^ put in Merle. “I saw 
so many different kinds from the car window.” 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Bullington, “ever since we came into the State, 
but especially this morning. Merle has kept me busy looking — it 
has been, ‘0, just look there. Mama,’ and ‘Aren’t those pretty 
fiowers. Mama ?’ until she had exhausted her vocabulary of adjec- 
tives many times over.” 

“They were the prettiest wild fiowers that I ever saw,” said 
Merle, “and I particularly fancied a blue fiower that I saw so many 
of this morning. I saw acres and acres of them. What do you 
call them ?” 

“They must have been blue bonnets,” replied Laura, “most 
people call them buffalo clover. That is our State flower.” 

“Yes, that’s what they are, because I asked the conductor and 
he said they were blue bonnets, but I forgot what he told me. Let 
me tell you a good one on Mama, Miss Lee; I laughed at her good. 
May I tell it, Mama ?” 

“0, I don’t care. Merle; I guess it won’t hurt Mr. Lee’s feel- 
ings.” 

“No, it won’t; his hide’s tough,” put in Bess, who loved her 
brother devotedly, but who never let an opportunity slip to “romp 
on him” or with him. 

“Well, all this morning Mama, herself, was admiring the broad 
prairies you have as much as I was admiring the beautiful flowers, 
and finally she turned to me and said : ‘Merle, doesn’t everything 
look pretty and green in Texas ; do you suppose the inhabitants are 

31 


THE TEXAN 


all that green?’ Mama said she meant it for a joke when I teased 
her about it — maybe she did.” 

Everybody laughed when Mrs. Bullington’s face colored. 

Now Jeff was heard from: ^‘Mrs. President,” he said, address- 
ing his mother, ‘T move that we cut out this Mr. and Miss. It’s 
all right for Bob, Laura, and Bess to call you Mrs. Bullington 
if they wish to, but I move that hereafter Miss Merle Bullington 
be known among us as Merle, and be so addressed; that Miss 
Laura Lee be known as Laura, and that Mr. Eobert Lee be known 
as Bob. This may not be etiquette exactly, but it’s handier and 
it’s the good old Texas way — this Mr. and Miss sounds too formal 
to suit me.” 

“I second the motion,” said Bess. ^^Everybody calls me Bess. 

J eff continued, ^^All in favor of that motion say ^aye.’ ” 

^^Aye, aye,” said everybody except Mrs. Bullington. 

^^Not parliamentary practice,” she cried. ‘Meff did not give 
‘Mrs. President’ a chance to put the vote, but put it himself, but 
I’m in favor of the motion, nevertheless.” 

“Mrs. Bullington,” said Bob Lee, “we Texans have had to do 
things by ourselves so much, and of necessity do it in our own 
way, that we have become independent in our way of doing things, 
and naturally take hold of anything that comes up and do it the 
best way we know how, and rarely ask if it is done with all the 
I’s dotted and all the T’s crossed. We are like the little boy who 
kept telling his father every day that he was at the head of his 
spelling class, until his father asked him one day how many were 
in the class, and his answer was, ‘Just me.’ So often, when an 
emergency arises among us there has been ‘just me’ present to meet 
it, and it has naturally taught us to depend on ourselves so much 
that we take the lead and do things in our own way. Especially 
was this the case among our early settlers. They were pioneers 
living on the frontier, and the settlements were so scattered that 
they had to depend upon themselves in every emergency, not only 
of a peaceful nature, but also in the way of protecting their homes 
and themselves against the savage Indians. They naturally became 
a very sturdy, hardy, independent people, doing things in their 
own way, and the Texans of to-day, their descendants, are veiy 


32 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


much the same kind of people. The most independent people in 
the world to-day are the Texans. They feel like they can take care 
of themselves anywhere and under any circumstances, and ttieydl 
come mighty near doing it, too,’^ he added with a touch of pride. 

“Let me tell you one on Bob, Mother^ where he had to depend 
on himself. I^m going to tell her about you and the yearling. 
Bob,’’ said Jeff, and he laughed heartily at the remembrance of it. 

“Yes, you scoundrel; I thought I was depending on you to help 
me out for a while, but I soon found out I’d have to depend on 
myself if I got away from that yearling,” and Bob grinned a 
sickly grin. 

“Mother,” continued Jeff, “you see Bob and I went out cow 
hunting about a year ago. We intended to pen theni and brand 
some of the yearlings. We penned our cattle all right; had built 
our fire, and had our irons hot, and had branded nearly all the 
yearlings, but there was a rollicky one still unbranded. It was a 
muley, large for its age, and as wild as a buck ; and it would fight, 
too. We’d chased it round the pen so much in catching the other 
yearlings that we had it good and hot, and just spoiling for a fight. 
Finally it was to be branded. I threw my rope on it and before 
I threw it, or even ran around a post with my rope, I told Bob to 
bring the branding iron. Bob turned his back and was stooping 
dowm to get it when the yearling made for him. I knew it couldn’t 
hurt him, because it was a muley and had no horns. It occurred 
to me how funny it would be to let it butt Bob one good butt, and 
then watch Bob get away. I waited until it got so close that Bob 
couldn’t possibly get away, and then squalled, ‘^Look out Bob !’ 
and poor Bob looked around just in time to keep from being 
butted into the fire head first. He cleared the fire, but lit on his 
hands and knees, the yearling right after him ; then such a butting 
and crawling match as you never saw! Every time Bob would 
attempt to get on his feet I’d give the rope a little slack, and 
^Bip’ the old yearling would hit Bob again, and as soon as Bob 
would land he’d crawl as fast as he could to get out of the way, 
and then he’d try to get on his feet and we’d have the same per- 
formance all over again. Of course, I made out as if I was doing 
all I could to hold the yearling off of him, but I would just give 


33 


THE TEXAN 


it enough rope that he could butt Bob right good without hurt- 
ing him. It was so funny to see Bob get a butt, and then see him 
crawl, that I couldnT stand it any longer; I set back on the rope 
and stopped the yearling and had to laugh. Bob looked so sheep- 
ish and couldn’t say a thing but, ^Never mind. I’ll get even with 
you.’ ” Even Bob joined in the hearty laugh that went around 
at his expense. 

^'Yes, I did get even; didn’t I Jeff?” 

“That’s the truth. Bob; tell it. I know you are going to any- 
how,” and without waiting for any second invitation Bob said : 

“I studied for two or three months how I was going to get even 
with J eff, and when I decided how it was by pure accident. One 
evening Jeff asked me to go over and spend the night with him. 
His landlady was away from home, and he would be alone in the 
house. I agreed, and, after getting an early supper at my home, 
just before dark we started for Jeff’s boarding house, which was 
across the hollow from where I lived, and some distance away. 
Jeff was ahead when we came to the hollow (as only one could 
cross at a time), and after crossing he was still in the lead. He 
scared a little chicken snake, about a foot long, out of a tuft of 
grass; but he didn’t see the snake at all, as it came towards me. 
A chicken snake is not dangerous, and never bites anybody. All 
at once it flashed over me that here was my opportunity to get 
even with Jeff, so I didn’t say anything. Putting my foot on the 
snake, I caught him alive and soon had him in my pocket, where 
I kept him safely until we got over to Jeff’s. When there I quietly 
transferred him to one of Jeff’s shoe boxes. I knew I was going to 
scare Jeff with that snake some way, but I couldn’t decide upon 
the best way. I decided I’d wait until he went to bed, but I had 
no idea that fortune would favor me so much as she did. I fooled 
around until Jeff undressed and went to bed. It was a hot night 
in summer. Jeff, lying stretched out full length on the bed, and 
with his eyes shut to keep out the light, was cooling off. Now 
was my opportunity, and getting the snake I let it fall across 
Jeff’s stomach. The blood-curdling yell that Jeff gave when it 
began to wriggle would have done credit to any Comanche Indian, 
and they say that no man has ever been known to lie flat on his 
back and jump half as high as Jeff did.” 


34 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


Everybody shuddered, and then laughed, but Mrs. Bullington 
suggested that it looked to her that both jokes were a little too 
rough; but they did not have time to discuss the matter, for Bess 
yawned and said, ^^Buddie, let’s go home; I’m sleepy and I’m too 
tired to grin.” 


35 


CHAPTEK VI. 


Marble Falls was well named and means something. That is 
not always the case, for the blackest negro I ever saw was named 
Pearl and her sister was named Lily. Marble Falls was so named 
because there the Colorado Eiver has quite a number of falls in 
the space of a couple of miles, and these falls are made out of 
marble for its bed, and it falls through marble banks ; in fact, its 
banks are of marble for a mile or more. Now what more appro- 
priate name could have been given than the name of Marble Falls? 

The fishing crowd that went there from Georgetown in the sum- 
mer of IS 79 was composed of Jeff and Merle Bullington, Bob, 
Laura and Bessie Lee, Howel Caldwell, Jack Wooten and his sis- 
ter Mattie, and Misses Cornie and Beulah Henderson. A negro 
named Horn went along to act as grand mogul and high muck-a- 
muck of the culinary department — in other words, to cook. 

You know the Bullingtons and the Lees, but the others Ifil have 
to tell you something about. 

Howel Caldwell was a young man of twenty, who thought a 
great deal of Mattie Wooten. Jack Wooten was twenty-one; his 
sister Mattie was eighteen. For Jack Wooten, there was a certain 
Virginia girl, Merle Bullington by name, whom he admired; while 
if his sister Mattie had been asked what boy in Georgetown she 
liked the best, she would probably have replied, “Bob Lee.” Nor 
was this a one-sided liking either, for Bob Lee had known Mattie 
all his life, and before Merle Bullington had come to Texas, Mat- 
tie Wooten had undoubtedly been Bob Lee’s preference of all the 
Georgetown girls. Now, I doubt if Bob Lee himself knew which 
one of the two he liked the better, I’m sure that Merle Bullington 
and Mattie Wooten did not know. Matters had not progressed 
that far. There was onty one thing about Mattie Wooten that 
Bob Lee did not like, and that was that she was always behind 
time. She didn’t expect to get to church until the sermon was 
begun, and such a thing as being ready when a young man called 
on her was something that she didn’t figure on at all. She always 
kept them waiting. After Bob Lee knew her well and found out 
that it was a habit of hers to alwa 3 ^s be behind, and she had kept 


36 


A TALE OP TEXAS 


him waiting an unusually long time one night, he said to her; 
‘^Mattie, I’m awfully afraid that when you die and go to Heaven 
you’ll be so slow that you’ll find the pearly gates closed, and will 
have to pick the lock with a hair-pin to get in at all.” After that 
she came nearer being on time when he called. 

As for the Misses Cornie and Beulah Henderson, they were 
maiden ladies of uncertain age; old enough to act as chaperons 
for the crowd. Like most ladies who had attained their age in 
life, they were old enough to have opinions, and were not back- 
ward about expressing them either. Why should they be? A 
woman who has no husband to depend on to express her opinions 
for her necessarily must express them herself; must she not? Is 
that one of the drawbacks or one of the blessings of being an old 
maid? 

As for myself, I like old maids. Some people call them ‘‘^unap- 
propriated blessings,” and insinuate very strongly that in the part- 
nership game -of life they have never been offered a partner. 
I don’t believe it. Instead of that, most of the old maids that I 
know have shown their good sense by refusing, refusing I say, to 
be “appropriated” by men who were not their equals. I think 
most all of them have been offered a partnership some time in 
life, but have declined because they did not like the partner 
offered. If I was a woman I’d rather live and die an old maid 
than marry some of the men I know. It was an old maid who 
once said, “The more I see of men, the more I like dogs.” I once 
asked an old maid why she didn’t get married. She replied, “Those 
I want I can’t get, and those I can get the Devil himself wouldn’t 
have.” I hope that old maid never will get married unless things 
change ; don’t you ? 

Misses Comie and Beulah were typical old maids, but they were 
not soured with life. They were jolly, and could see the funny 
side of things; they liked the young people and the young people 
liked them. 

So it was quite a congenial party that started out that July 
evening for a ten days’ fishing trip. I said “July evening” inten- 
tionally because it was five o’clock in the evening when the crowd 
left Georgetown, and, although that was late and they might have 
waited until next morning to start, yet they were anxious to begin 


37 


THE TEXAH 


camping out that night — they all got ready at five o^clock in the 
evening, and at five o’clock in the evening they started. 

They got about five miles from town and camped for the night 
at an old schoolhouse, where water was to be had for both man 
and beast. The big campfire was built, and Horn soon had supper 
ready. After supper Howel Caldwell and Mattie Wooten chal- 
lenged Jack Wooten and Merle Bullington for a game of domi- 
noes, and while they played the rest of the crowd sat around and 
cracked jokes. Bedtime came all too soon. There was a hard 
drive ahead for the morrow, so by ten o’clock all must be abed. 
It was decided that the women and the girls should sleep in the 
old schoolhouse. The boys moved the benches around to make a 
place for them to spread their pallets, gave them their watches 
to take care of, and bid them good-night. 

The boys took their bed clothes and made their beds down in a 
little open space some fifty yards from the schoolhouse. That’s 
where they used bad judgment, for the place was a salt lick for 
the neighborhood cattle. It was where the cattle stood and licked 
their salt, and there they dropped their ticks, the place being liter- 
ally alive with seed ticks. Of caurse our boys did not know it, or 
they would have used better judgment than to have tried to sleep 
in any such place. 

Of course they had to talk and sing for about an hour, just like 
boys will, in the meantime taking turn about throwing rocks at 
the old schoolhouse to keep the girls from going to sleep. The 
girls were tired and sleepy, and not inclined to be ^^jokey,” yet 
they stood it pretty well for a while; but after being awakened 
the third or fourth time by a sudden fusillade of rocks they got 
mad. Of course that tickled the boys and all would grow quiet 
again, the wrathful sisters would drop off into peaceful slumber, 
and then would come an unexpected fusillade of rocks, and the 
startled sisters would again make a few remarks. 0, but they 
were angry! 

By eleven o’clock the boys had tired of their meanness and laid 
them down to — scratch. The seed ticks were getting busy, and 
they were the most energetic ticks that you ever saw. Every boy 
who caught a tick put it on some other fellow’s bed and the ticks 
as w'ell as their victims had a strenuous time. By midnight tired 


38 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


nature had asserted herself, seed ticks or no seed ticks, and every- 
body slept. 

How long no one knew, but it was Howel Caldwell who roused 
Bob Lee. “Bob, I think it^s time to get up, the moon is nearly 
down; it’s time we were stirring; it’s nearly day.” 

“All right, Howel,” and the two boys “hollowed” almost loud 
enough to wake the dead. 

Horn soon had a big fire going, the sleepy boys got into their 
clothes and huddled around the fire to keep warm, for the night 
air was chill, and one by one the feminine portion of the crowd 
joined the group around the fire. Every one of them came out 
fussing at the boys for rocking the schoolhouse and keeping them 
awake, while the boys pretended not to hear their complaints, but 
told of the wonderful battle they had had with the seed ticks. 

Breakfast was soon over and everything was packed ready to 
start when Bob Lee asked Merle Bullington for his watch, which 
he had given her the night before to take care of for him. “All 
right,” she said, “let’s see what sort of a start we are getting; I 
thought it would be daylight by now.” 

She looked at the watch, caught her breath, and then looked 
again. 

“What time do you suppose it is ?” she said, and held the watch 
to the fire for Miss Cornie Henderson to see. 

“Can it be possible?” Miss Comie gasped; “it is now just fif- 
teen minutes after two, and we’ve been up an hour already.” 

In vain did the poor boys plead that they had no watches and 
had made an honest mistake about it being time to get up. The 
girls threatened to go back to bed and sleep until daylight — they 
hadn’t had any sleep anyway, they said, because the boys had acted 
like idiots and rocked the schoolhouse all night. I don’t Imow 
whether they were madder than they were sleepy or sleepier than 
they were mad. In fact, the comparative degree will hardly do 
justice to their feelings at all. I have to use the superlative and 
say that they were the maddest, sleepiest lot of girls imaginable. 

Poor little old Bess crawled up in the back of the wagon and 
went to sleep, and by the time day broke the crowd was ten miles 
away from camp, “Peaceful Best,” as the boys called it. 

Bob and Merle rode together in the buggy that morning, but 


39 


THE TEXAN 


Bob had most of the conversation to himself for some time. Merle 
pretended that she was asleep, but she wasnT — she was only pout- 
ing. Finally Bob quit talking and not a word was said for a couple 
of miles until he could stand it no longer. 

^^Look here, Merle, if s my time to sleep now, you’ve slept long 
enough; you take the lines a while and let me sleep.” 

It was a bluff, pure and simple, but she called it, and reaching 
over she took the lines from his hand and there was nothing for 
him to do but to lay his head back, shut his eyes and pretend that 
he was going to sleep. He played ^‘^possum” so successfully that 
the first thing he Imew he was asleep. 

Merle let the old horse drop behind until she came to where the 
road forked, and, being a ^Tenderfoot” and not having had any 
experience in such matters, did not think to look and see which 
way the. wagon tracks went. Of course she took the wrong road, 
and when Bob woke up he found that they were traveling a road 
that he had never traveled before, the wagon was not in sights — 
they were lost. 

^‘Why, Merle, I did go to sleep; didn’t I? Where in the world 
are we? I never was here before. Where is the wagon?” 

‘T don’t know and I don’t care,” Merle flung back at him. 

He savr he had gone too far. Eeally he was ashamed of himself 
for going to sleep — ^he never intended to and he frankly told Merle 
he was teasing her when he proposed it. 

Still teasing, he pleaded, ^‘Merle, I’ve begged your pardon, please 
don’t be mad with me; anybody can get mad; it takes a somebody 
to stay in good humor always, doesn’t it ?” 

^‘1 guess I must be a nobody, then,” was her only answer. 

But nobody could remain angry with Bob Lee, and by the time 
they had retraced their steps to the forks of the road, and caught 
up with the wagon. Merle was in a good humor once more. 

As they drove up Jack Wooten asked, with a tinge of jealousy: 
‘^Where in the world have you and Merle been? We thought we 
had lost 5 ^ou.” 

^^0, we were just taking our time; you can’t lose us,” Bob re- 
plied. The remainder of the morning they kept in sight of the 
wagon. 


40 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


‘AVhat are those people doing yonder in that field?” Merle 
asked as they passed a field with a number of teams and men in it. 

“That is old man McXeiFs. He has been sick for some time 
and his neighbors are helping him with his crop. That is quite 
common in Texas.” 

Bob’s reply set her thinking, and she had a better opinion of 
Texans than she had had before; she thought of the parable in the 
Bible of the man who fell among thieves, and that the real neigh- 
bor of any man is the man who will hel|) him when he is down, 
needs help and can’t help himself. 

“Your Texas farmers may not be the most up-to-date people in 
the world, but their hearts are in the right place,” she said. 

“That’s true. Merle; most of our farmers are good people. As 
a rule they have more religion, too, than the people in town. I 
have but one fault to find with them, and that is not altogether 
theirs, it is the fault of our politicians. Our politicians spoil the 
farmer and give him false notions. Knowing that the farmer’s 
vote counts much in an election, our politicians toady to him so 
much that he thinks he is fihe only pebble on the beach.’ They 
tell him that he is the producer, and that without him the world 
would starve — that the farmer is the soul of honor — and while 
they make no direct comparison, yet in eveiy way they can, with- 
out saying it, they make the poor farmer believe that he is ’a 
superior being. In other words, they give him the big head be- 
cause they want his vote. What is the consequence ? The political 
stump-speaker has added fuel to a fire that is already entirely too 
bright. The result is the positive dislike of town people that so 
many farmers have. I’ve often wondered why this dislike and why 
their lack of confidence in town people, and I think that I have- 
the answer. It is a mean trait in human nature that makes us 
envious of and anxious to pull down those whom we think are 
above us in any way. A critic is a person who, inwardly conscious 
of his own unworthiness, tries to pull down to his same low level 
those whom he thinks above him. 

“How, the farmer knows that he is not as well^ educated as the 
town man is, nor can he dress as well; it makes him mad, and he 
is continually looking for some man in town to show his superior- 
ity by beating him out of something in a trade. Perhaps he has 


41 


THE TEXAN 


found some town man who has already beaten him, for I regret 
to say there are quite a lot of slick rascals who live in town and 
whose main business in life consists of studying up some slick 
scheme to beat some poor ignorant farmer out of his hard-earned 
dollars. But the trouble is that when that does happen the farmer 
does the injustice of believing that all town people are just like 
the scoundrel that beat him. That isn’t fair; that isn’t right. 
The majority of town people think as little of a rascal of that sort 
as the farmer does. And then the politician comes along and 
makes the farmer believe that the farmer is the only Simon-pure, 
unadulterated, honest man in the whole country, and he hates a 
town man worse than ever. 

^^Now I like the farrder; I’m his friend, and I don’t think my- 
self above him in any way either, because I have had better oppor- 
tunities of getting an education and perhaps am able to wear bet- 
ter clothes than he usually does. I am thankful for the oppor- 
* tunities that I have had, but I don’t look down on him in the least 
because he has not had them. I am his friend, and he is my equal. 
There are other things in life that go to make up equality among 
men besides education and fine clothes. But I am not willing to 
admit that because he happens to live in the country while I live 
in town, that that necessarily makes him an honest man nor me 
a rascal. Nor would he think it either if the politician had not 
put it into his head by making him believe that the farmer has a 
corner on all the good qualities in the world. I believe what the 
negroes say, Tt’s a mighty hard matter to get all the coons up one 
tree.’ I have bought many a load of corn from a farmer where 
the good ears were all on top and the nubbins at the bottom, but 
that did not prove that all farmers are tricky or dishonest, because 
that particular one happened to be; but I am sure that all the 
rascals don’t live in town. All rascals look alike to me, whether 
they live in town or on a farm, and the quicker the farmer real- 
izes that there are many men in town who have as high an esti- 
mate of honor as he has, and have too much sense to look down on 
him because of his lack of opportunities, the better it will be for 
all concerned. There is very little cause for this feeling that so 
many farmers have against town people; it should not be, and, 
although I am the farmer’s friend, I think he is almost entirely to 


42 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


blame for it. All of us have our faults, and this is one of the 
farmers faults, and I believe the politician is back of it all. The 
truth of the matter is, the town man needs the farmer and his 
crop, and the farmer needs the town man in helping him make 
and market his crop. Many a farmer couldn’t make a crop if he 
couldn’t get financial help from the banks in town or goods from 
his merchant on credit. 

^^The farmer and the town man each need the other, and neither 
one can get along well without the other. Good Old Dr. Mood, 
one of my professors in the Southwestern University, used to say 
that the little insignificant fice by his barldng caused many a dog 
fight; and that it was the tale-bearing, two-legged fice that caused 
many a good man to get into trouble. ^Alw'ays throw a rock at 
the fice before you go to fighting, boys,’ said he. 

thought that was good advice then; I think so yet, so I say 
look out, Mr. Politician, or you will get hit — somebody is throw- 
ing rocks at you.” 

About this time Jack Wooten stopped the wagon. 

^^Eight here we camp for dinner,” he announced; ^Ve can get 
water enough for dinner from that tank yonder.” 

Bob and Merle drove up and alighted. 

^^Horn,” said Jack, “you build the fire, and Merle and I will 
go to the tank for water.” 

The truth of the matter was he was jealous because Merle and 
Bob had been riding together in the buggy all morning, and he 
had called a halt for dinner before it was dinner time. 

“Come on. Merle, we’ll get the water,” he said, and away they 
went, bucket in hand, leaving Bob, Jeff and Howel to take out and 
feed the horses. 

Merle had been raised on a farm in Virginia. A creek ran 
through it and there had been no necessity there for a tank. 

“How do we get the water out of the tank?” she asked Jack 
as they neared the tank. 

“We pull out that plug there near the bottom, and catch the 
water in the bucket,” he explained. “But wait a minute, let me 
ask can we get it.” Setting the bucket down Jack left Merle and 
went to the farm house, some sixty feet away to ask permission. 


43 


THE TEXAN 


“Help yourself,” the old farmer said, so loud that Merle heard 
him. 

J ack thanked him and started back to the tank, but did not 
notice what Merle was doing. WTien he did look at her it was too 
late to save her from a ducking, for, holding the bucket in her left 
hand. Merle was standing directly in front of the plug in the tank 
trying to pull it out, never thinking with how much force the 
water would come. She was going to be nice and fill the bucket 
before Jack got back. 

“Look out, youfil get wet,” shouted Jack, and she loosened her 
hold on the plug to see what Jack was saying, and just then the 
water forced the plug out. It came with considerable force and 
hit her on the chin, the water striking her fairly in the face, fill- 
ing her mouth and nose, nearly drowping her. As for her clothes, 
if she had any dry ones they were in a grip in the wagon, for I 
am sure that she did not have any dry ones on. 

Jack’s shout of warning had attracted the attention of those in 
camp, and all saw the accident. With shouts of laughter and good, 
natured badinage Merle was received on her return to camp. 

“Couldn’t expect anything better from a Tenderfoot,’ ” J eff an- 
nounced, while the girls got out her grip and hustled her off to 
the bushes to get on some dry clothes. 

Suitably clothed and in her right mind once more. Merle herself 
couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous it all was, and how 
thoughtless she had been. But the crowd wouldn’t let up on her 
at all. 

Howel asked her confidentially (but loud enough for everybody 
to hear) : “Now, Merle, honest Injun, didn’t you have any idea 
that there was any water going to come out of that hole when you 
pulled the plug out, or did you think that tank was just a kaleido- 
scope, and you intended to pull out the plug so you could look in 
and see the pretty little fishes swimming in that tank ?” 


44 


CHAPTER VIII. 


Into every life there comes some trouble sooner or later. In the 
very natnre of the case this is true; it is a law of mortality, and 
anyone who will think seriously of the matter for a minute will 
know that it is bound to he true. To some, trouble comes early 
in life and all through life, others seem to slip through life ‘‘on 
flowery beds of ease’^ until old age comes, before trouble overtakes 
them. 

The death of friends or of our loved ones, the misdeeds of our- 
selves or of our loved ones, ill-health and sickness, poverty or dis- 
grace, the loss of friends who should have been true, the meanness 
of human nature — ^trouble comes in so many forms. This world 
is full of trouble, and sooner or later it will come into the lives 
of each and every one of us, in some shape or form. 

It is the inevitable heritage of mankind — the bitter in the cup 
of life. One thing is incontrovertible, and that is that the longer, 
we live the more trouble there is behind us. Seldom do you see a 
young person who really wants to die. Having experienced little 
trouble, with the buoyancy of youth they look forward into the 
future with hope and expectation. The future in this world 
usually looks roseate and bright to a young person, but to old 
people who have tried life — who have known its sorrows and its 
disappointments — it looks different. Bearing the many sorrows 
of by-gone years upon their shoulders, and oftentimes afflicted 
with bodily pains, the Are of youth gone, is it any wonder that 
they sometimes feel that death would be a sweet release? They 
have lived their lives and oftentimes they feel as if they “are old 
and only in the way.’^ Many of their loved ones are “over on the 
other side;” is it any wonder that oftentimes they are willing to 
quit this world of sorrow and of pain and go to one “where sorrow 
never comes ?” 

For myself, I think that this willingness of the old to leave this 
world and to go to a better one is one of the most merciful pro- 
visions of an all- wise Providence; iPs God’s way of reconciling 
mankind to death. 


45 


THE TEXAN 


Into the life of Laura Lee her first trouble came earl3^ It was 
this: 

Some two years ago there came to Georgetown a young man, 
Seth Eollins by name, a poor, sickly-looking, friendless boy — a 
clerk by occupation. Nobody knew aught either for or against 
him because no one knew anything about his past. 

He obtained a position in the leading dry goods store. For a 
while no one paid any special attention to him. He said little, 
and did not try to push himself, but faithfully attended to his 
own business and kept his own counsel. About the only harsh 
criticism I ever heard made against him was that he was so wild 
about music that he spent most of his leisure time playing the 
piano, and I heard a man once say that Seth Eollins couldnT be 
much account because he played the piano so much; that he never 
did know any boy who played as much as Seth Eollins who was 
ever any account for anything else. It showed him to be too effem- 
inate to ever amount to anything in life. 

I suppose that Seth Eollins must have been in town about a year 
when the Baptists held a big protracted meeting. I donT remem- 
ber who was doing the preaching, but I do remember that a man 
named Brown came to manage the music during the meeting. 

Mr. Brown was a very fine singer and also a very fine performer 
on the organ. Attracted by the music, Seth Eollins attended the 
meeting, was converted, and joined the church, and being a good 
singer it was not long before he was asked to join the choir. 

One night the regular organist was absent and Seth Eollins was 
requested to play the organ. He was a fine performer, and the 
regular organist moving away soon after this Seth Eollins was 
invited to be and became the regular organist. 

Laura Lee was a member of the choir, and between her and the 
new organist there soon sprang up a friendship that threatened to 
develop into something stronger. Her name was mentioned fre- 
quently in connection with that of Seth Eollins, and he was soon 
paying her devoted attention. 

Then old Colonel Lee woke up to the fact that if he didn’t look 
out he stood a chance of having a new son-in-law — one not of his 
own choosing. It was then he did the very thing that he ought 
not to have done ; the thing a great many parents do under similar 


46 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


circumstances — he opposed Seth Hollins with all of his might, 
which shows that Colonel Lee was a better soldier than he was a 
diplomat. 

With most young girls the surest way in the world to make a 
match is for the parents to vehemently oppose it. Somehow the 
girl nearly always gets it into her head, under such circumstances, 
that her parents are opposing her best interests, and that the boy, 
poor fellow, is not appreciated like he deserves to be. The girl’s 
judgment is always the best under such circumstances, her discern- 
ment keener. It’s wonderful how smart she gets to be all at once. 
In her eyes her sweetheart is being imposed upon, and there is no 
better way in the world to make a girl love an undesirable beau 
than to let her get it into her head that he is a martyr. 

Laura Lee was a girl of good sense, but very few girls exercise 
any sense, or judgment either, under like circumstances. 

In vain did old Colonel Lee try to show her that he was not the 
mortal enemy of Seth Hollins, and that all in the world he wished 
her to do was to find out something about Seth Hollins — ^his ante- 
cedents, his family, his past. He couldn’t make her understand 
that he was not opposing him, but only trying to use good com- 
mon sense in finding out whether Seth Hollins was worthy of such 
a girl as she was. 

But the more Colonel Lee insisted the more set and determined 
did she become. The only way she could and would see the mat- 
ter was that her father was prejudiced against Seth Hollins, and 
for nothing; and here was Seth Hollins, a poor, friendless boy, 
sickly, too, being hounded and imposed upon for nothing in the 
world but because he loved her. 

It was so unjust, especially since Seth was trying to do better, 
for hadn’t he joined the church recently? It was a shame that he 
should be treated so. Everybody ought to help him, and her father 
was showing such an unchristian spirit. Thus her thoughts ran 
and oftentimes her tongue. 

The fact that Seth Hollins was a poor boy, sickly and friendless, 
appealed to her strongly, and she let her sympathy run away with 
her judgment as most girls do under like circumstances. Sym- 
pathy, as you know, is a near neighbor of love. But somehow I 
never did believe that Laura Lee loved Seth Hollins; but all the 


47 


THE TEXAN 


conditions were right to make her do so if something didnT hap- 
pen soon. Many a poor, stubborn girl has married under just such 
circumstances and spent the balance of her days regretting that 
she did not take her parent’s advice, and use a little common sense 
beforehand. 

Most any girl can get married, but marriage and happiness after 
marriage are not always synonymous terms, I regret to say. 

But with Seth Eollins and Laura Lee something did happen 
before matters had gone that far, or before they were even en- 
gaged. Seth Eollins took sick. Fever; typhoid fever, the doctor 
pronounced it. The young men of the town nursed him and gave 
him every possible attention, Jeff Bullington among the rest. 
Laura Lee sent him a fresh bouquet every day. One night he died, 
with the name of Laura Lee upon his lips. 

Poor Laura ! she was human ; she did sorrow ; she thought hers 
certainly must be the deepest trouble that anyone was ever called 
upon to bear. It was the first trouble that had ever come to her, 
and she magnified it; she thought the wound was deeper than it 
really was. The very fact that to call her name was the last thing 
that he had ever done called up all the sentiment in her nature 
and opened up the flood gates of her thoughts as well as of her 
tears. What might have been had he only lived? 

In the first agony of our troubled hearts we always think more 
of the dead than we did of the same one while living. So it was 
with Laura. Seth Eollins dead was loved far more than Seth 
Eollins while living ; for didn’t he die with her name upon his lips ? 

This looked like a dreary old world to Laura, the day Seth 
Eollins was buried, and it continued to look that way to her for 
some time; but gradually she came to herself and began to see 
things as they really were. Then she remembered that in reality 
Seth Eollins had never said very much to her about love. True, 
he had liked her, any girl could have told that; but if he had had 
any stronger feeling for her than friendship he had not said much 
about it. People had always thought there was more between them 
than there really was, and if he had not died with her name upon 
his lips there would not be any just cause for her to take his death 
as hard as she was taking it. He was delirious just before he died 
and in his delirium might he not have just happened to call her 


48 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


name instead of some one else’s ? So reasoned Laura Lee with her- 
self, but, reason as she would, she could not help but have a very 
tender spot in her heart fbr the memory of Seth Eollins. 

By the divine arrangement of a loving Creator time is a won- 
derful healer of sorrowing hearts, but even time cannot always 
efface the scars. In turning back the pages of memory we oft- 
times unexpectedly come upon a scar and a fresh pang shoots 
through our hearts, and fresh tears stand in our eyes as we go back 
to by-gone days. 

But time is a powerful salve for a sore heart, and even if it 
cannot effect a permanent cure I, for one, am glad that it is. 
^^What canT be cured, must be endured,” is good doctrine for 
human hearts. When our loved ones die it is human — I had al- 
most said it is divine — to hold them in memory dear in loving 
hearts and if need be shed the silent tear as in the night watches 
we think of how happy we were in the by-gone days when they were 
with us. Yet, with all those tender thoughts it is not justice to 
the living to bury our hearts in the grave of the loved ones who 
have gone before. 

When our loved ones die, it is right to perform for them the last 
sad rites — to give them decent burial — but when we have done 
that, we have done all we can do for them. After that, it seems 
to me, our duty is to the living, not to the dead. 

Time is a wonderful healer, and I believe that the patient should 
do all things possible to assist in healing the wound. That is best; 
that is just towards the living; We can neither help nor harm the 
dead. It is not right to neglect the living by spending our time 
that should be given them in always grieving for the dead. 

So I have no criticism whatever to make of Laura Lee in that 
she gradually overcame her sorrow as best she could. Xecessarily 
this was not done in a day, and for some time her very appearance 
indicated her suffering, and it was a great pleasure to her parents 
when she consented to join the crowd that was going on the fishing 
trip to Marble Falls. 


40 


CHAPTEE IX. 


After dinner was over on the day in which Merle got the duck- 
ing Howel insisted that it was his time to ride in the buggy, and 
asked Mattie Wooten to ride with him. Mattie accepted the invi- 
tation, and that evening they led the way, most of the time at 
some distance ahead of the wagon. 

As I wasn^t along I can’t tell you just what Howel had to say 
to Mattie on that memorable evening ride, nor just what hap- 
pened; but one thing I do know, and that is that whenever those 
in the wagon did get in sight of them they saw them engaged in 
earnest conversation and they said that that night Howel did not 
seem to be in good humor; and Mattie seemed to be just a little 
bit quiet and preoccupied, and seemed to show just a little tender- 
ness towards Howel. 

Now if you were guessing, what would you guess they were talk- 
ing about so earnestly that evening? And what would you guess 
happened ? 

Isn’t it strange how many excuses a boy can invent to get with 
the girl he likes? For instance, that same evening Jack Wooten 
found out how very crowded the wagon was and unselfishly (?) 
proposed to Merle that they should ride back on the ^^grub” wagon 
with Horn, and, of course. Merle agreed. Why shouldn’t she? 

Everybody loves admiration, and girls are no exception to the 
rule. To be admired and to be told about it seems to some girls 
good; to others it seems better, and to still others it seems best — 
they all like it in varying degrees. Bless their hearts, why 
shouldn’t they? 

There was once an old toper who said, ^^There ain’t any bad 
whisky; it is all good, better or best.” So to the dear girls ‘There 
ain’t any bad love making; it’s all good, better or best,” and why 
shouldn’t men and boys admire them ? To my mind a sweet, pure 
girl is just about the sweetest thing in existence and most worthy 
of any true man’s admiration. 

I haven’t any patience with a woman-hater. Some way he re'- 
minds me of vinegar and quinine. But I don’t mean that all girls 
are flirts — far from it. I haven’t any more use for a flirt than I 


50 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


have for a woman-hater. To me both are nauseating. All girls 
love admiration, bnt all girls are not flirts. If they were, I for 
one would not have the high opinion of them that I now have. 

How should I know whether Jack said anything sweet to Merle 
on that evening ride? I wasnT there. Nobody was there but 
Horn, and if he overheard anything not meant for him to hear, 
he’ll never tell it — ^negroes are wise about that. Whatever they 
hear the white folks say they hardly ever repeat to other white 
folks. 

The nearest Horn came to telling anything about it was that 
night when he and Bob were together alone. He said : ^^Mr. Bob, 
I feels like I’se been around a ’lasses mill this evening.” But Bob 
couldn’t persuade him to say any more or explain what he meant. 
The negro only grinned and chuckled. It’s a pity some white folks 
are not as wise as negroes are about certain things. 

Jeff drove the other wagon that evening with Laura Lee sitting 
beside him on the wagon seat to keep him company, while Bob 
and Bessie and Misses Cornie and Beulah Henderson sat on the 
bed clothes in the back of the wagon and alternately slept and 
cracked jokes at each other’s expense. 

me tell you a good one on Bess,” said Bob, ^‘^about the 
other day when old Gray ran away with her.” 

^^Tell us about it; tell us about it,” said Jeff. 

Without further urging Bob said : ‘^You know we have an old 
gray horse around the place, which we considered perfectly gentle 
until he got scared at the cars the other day and ran away with 
Bess. I was going after the cows the other day, and of course 
Bess wished to go, too. Laura was using her sidesaddle, and I 
did not have any saddle for Bess, so I just put a blanket on old 
Gray and put Bess on him astride, and away we went. Everything 
went all right until we were crossing the railroad near the depot, 
when a freight train came along, and before I knew it old Gray 
bolted. Bess tried to stop him, but he was good and scared. Of 
course I took out after him on my pony, but he was so scared that 
I had to run him some distance before I could catch him. Bess 
was scared, too, and when she found out she could not stop old 
Gray she grabbed him around the neck and hung on for dear life. 
When I got close enough I heard Bess say: ^Now I lay me down 


51 


THE TEXAN 


to sleep. Whoa, Gray, Whoa ! I pray the Lord my soul to keep. 
Whoa ! Gray, Whoa ! If I should die before I wake, please donT 
run away with me. Gray; please donT run away with me; I pray 
the Lord my soul to take. Catch us, Buddie, catch us !’ I tell 
you she was praying and talking. Now wasnT that it, Bess?’^ 

‘^Nearly,' ^ sheepishly acknowledged Bess, and everybody seemed 
to enjoy the joke but Bess. But she got a little consolation by 
making ^^Buddie’^ hold her head in his lap while she went to sleep. 

It was a hot, drowsy afternoon, and Laura Lee soon got sleepy, 
so she put Miss Cornie Henderson in her place on the front seat 
beside Jeff while she curled up in the back of the wagon and soon 
joined Bess ^hn the land of Nod.^^ Everybody was drowsy and 
half asleep. Soon after this the accident came. They were de- 
scending a steep hill, which had a large grapevine root growing 
in the road about half w^ay down the hill. At the bottom of the 
hill the road crossed a dry branch, which had a bed of sand as a 
bottom. Jeff was drowsy and wasn’t paying much attention to his 
driving and the wagon struck the grapevine root and momentarily 
stopped ; the traces were too long and the horses pulled the breast- 
yoke off of the end of the tongue, letting the wagon come down 
on the horses. 

This frightened the horses; they jerked the traces loose, and 
were loose from the wagon, and the first thing Jeff knew he was 
going over the dashboard holding valiantly to the lines, while on 
one of his feet hung the water bucket, which he had caught there 
as he made his wild dive over the dashboard. 

Miss Comie screamed and did her best to catch him. She made 
a wild dive for him as he went over, but she only succeeded in 
getting her finger nails smashed by his disengaged foot as he flew 
past. 

Miss Beulah Henderson almost had hysterics as she saw Jeff’s 
^^sudden departure,” but she tried to be real calm when she asked 
her sister Cornie: “Cornie, is Jeff dead; is Jeff dead, Cornie?” 

Laura Lee, awakened out of a sound sleep, seemed dazed at find- 
ing Jeff gone, the horses gone and the wagon nearly upset; while 
Bess, bless her little heart, began to cry in lieu of something bet- 
ter to do. 

Bob had his face to the hack of the wagon, and did not know 


52 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


what had happened. He scrambled to the side of the wagon, 
jerked np the wagon sheet, and looked to see what had become of 
Jeff, and then laughed so immoderately that he could hardly 
get out of the wagon. His laughter was the first thing to relieve 
the tension and let those in the back of the wagon know that Jefi 
wasn’t seriously hurt. 

No wonder that he laughed, for what he saw would have made 
a canine brute go to the point of uncontrollable risibility, by which 
I mean that it would have made a dog laugh. 

Jeff was long and tall. When the horses jerked him over the 
dashboard he lit on his all-fours and scrambled to his feet and ran 
for dear life to get out of the way of the loaded wagon. The 
horses dashed away, but he held to the lines until they jerked him 
down, head foremost, into the sand. When Bob first saw him he 
was standing on his head in the sand, buried up to his neck, his 
long legs waving wildly in the air pointed towards Heaven, and 
on one leg was the water bucket. Who wouldn’t have laughed at 
such a sight? 

Jeff was not hurt much, but it took some time to get the sand 
out of his eyes, ears, mouth, and nose. The horses were soon 
caught, the harness repaired, and all was well once more. 

In about an hour after the accident Marble Falls was reached. 
There was no town there then, and no houses except an old de- 
serted one-room house without a door, down close to the river. 
There the party camped so that the women folks could sleep in 
the house, and then it would help wonderfully in keeping the party 
dry in case of rain. 

The only inhabitants of Marble Falls then were a bunch of long, 
keen, hungry, razor-backed hogs, and they certainly made life a 
burden to our campers — they were into everything that was left 
unguarded for a moment. I seriously fear that some of the crowd 
fell from grace on account of those hogs. 

The funniest time that they had with the hogs was' one night 
when everybody was asleep, and an old hog smelt the provisions 
in the room where the women were sleeping, and climbed in the 
door, and when Miss Comie awoke he had passed most of the 
sleepers and was helping himself to the provisions on the other 
side of the room. He awoke Miss Cornie by treading on her feet, 


53 


THE TEXAN 


and she literally ^^kicked the bucket/^ for she kicked at the hog 
and kicked over the bucket of eggs. She raised the alarm and 
threw the washpan at the hog. That scared the hog and he ran 
over Miss Beulah and Mattie in trying to get out of the door, and 
of all the yelling and screaming you ever heard those girls and 
women did it, for it was dark and they didn’t know whose time 
it would be to get run over next, and of course everybody thought 
that the old hog was right after her. After that night they took 
good care to put something in the door to keep out the intruder. 

Fish were plentiful, nobody got mad, everybody went to have 
a good time and had it, and I’m rather inclined to think there 
were some private understandings reached by some of the young 
people. Everybody played pranks on everybody else. 

One night the boys treated (?) the girls to a serenade in which 
the dishpan and all the other tin pans served as musical instru- 
ments. The effect was startling, if not harmonious. 

One day Merle insisted on riding Old Bay to water, and Ijaura 
wasn’t satisfied until she was mounted on Old Roan’s back, with 
Bob behind her to hold her on. Jeff Jumped up behind Merle, 
and down the hill they went to the river. All would have been 
well had not Howel decided to have some fun, so as they passed 
him coming back he slyly poked his fishing pole in Old Roan’s 
flank; up went Old Roan’s heels, over his head into a sand pile 
went Laura, and Bob “went tumbling after” — in fact they both 
went together. Just before they hit the sand pile, and while both 
were in the air, Bob shouted, “Hold on, Laura,” but it was too 
late “to hold on.” Like the Irishman who was eating eggs and 
heard a young chicken chirp as it went down his throat, said, “You 
spake too late.” So Bob “spake too late.” 

The night before the campers started home the girls treated (?) 
the boys. That is, they gathered a nice assortment of grass burrs 
and took good pains to see that each boy had plenty of them in 
his bed that night. The poor boys had a time getting rid of those 
burrs, but it served them right for having been so mean to the 
girls. 

It was on the way home that Jeff played such a trick on Miss 
Beulah Henderson. He was driving the wagon and she was sit- 
ting on the seat with him when they drove into Liberty Hill. 


54 


A TALE OP TEXAS 


Everybody was dusty and dirty from the day^s drive, and Miss 
Beulah’s dress and sun bonnet looked like they had not been washed 
in a month. Jeff stopped the wagon right at the porch of the 
hotel and started to get out and get a drink of fresh water. 

^‘^0, yonder’s a meat market !” exclaimed Miss Beulah, as she 
clapped her hands for joy; “get some meat for supper, Jeff.” 

There was a drummer standing on the hotel porch, and seeing 
some of the pretty girls in the wagon he proceeded “to get busy.” 
Drummers are always noted for being backward and slow of 
speech (?) and this one was no exception to the rule. He didn’t 
know exactly where to begin, but seeing the fishing poles sticking 
out of the back of the wagon, gave him an opening, and summon- 
ing his most bewitching smile he said to Jeff: “Have you been 
fishing?” 

“0, no,” replied Jeff, without cracking a smile, “we’re just 
taking that lady on the front seat down to the asylum. She is 
crazy.” 

The drummer looked at Miss Beulah, and Miss Beulah looked 
at the drummer, but Jeff looked at neither; he just walked on 
off to buy some meat. 

What could Miss Beulah do? Most anything she did would 
have only convinced the drummer that Jeff was telling the truth, 
and I suppose the drummer would have kept on thinking that she 
was crazy if those in the wagon had not laughed. 

There are a great many coyote wolves in some parts of Texas. 
Almost any night the camper can hear them howl around him. 
They are great cowards, and are harmless creatures, as far as at- 
tacking people are concerned. They subsist on rabbits, fawns or 
wounded deer, dead carcasses, etc. But sometimes in summer 
they get hydrophobia among them and go mad, and a mad coyote 
becomes a veritable demon, attacking and biting every living thing. 
At such times they lose all sense of fear, and attack whoever comes 
in their way. 

The coyote wolf belongs to the dog family, and is nothing more 
nor less than a wild dog, and a mad coyote is simply a wild mad 
dog. To be bitten by a mad coyote means certain death by that 
dread disease hydrophobia, unless the victim can speedily get some- 
thing to counteract the effects of the bite. Even if saved tem- 


55 


THE TEXAN 


porarily the poor victim always has that dread hanging over him 
that sooner or later the virus may take effect, and he go mad. 
Dreadful thought! 

It occurred this way. Our camping party were nearly home. 
The last night had been spent in camp and everyone was already 
regretting the breaking up of the party when they should reach 
home that evening. It was just after daylight when Bob started 
to a near-by spring to get water for breakfast and, of course, Bess 
must go with him. She dearly loved ^^Buddie,^’ and as far as pos- 
sible tried to be his constant companion. He loved her with all 
of his heart; tease her he would unmercifully, and his words of 
love were few, but his actions showed that he almost idolized his 
little sister. He preferred showing his love by his actions rather 
than by his words. No one had heard of any hydrophobia coyotes 
in that part of Texas that summer, and consequently no one was 
guarding against them. The spring was reached, the bucket filled, 
and hand in hand they trudged along, Bess talking. Bob listening. 

Bess discovered some columbines growing close to the path. 

^AVait a minute, Buddie, I’ll get you a bouquet,” she said, and 
Bob walked slowly on, waiting for her to gather her flowers and 
catch up with him. 

She was a little longer coming than he expected she would be 
and he turned around to see what was detaining her. There she 
was, unconscious of danger, still gathering flowers, but horror upon 
horrors! Not fifty feet away, and making directly for her, was 
a mad coyote. 

^^Eun, Bess, run !” screamed Bob, almost paralyzed with fright. 

Looking around she saw the coyote ; and with a scream of horror 
she dropped her flowers and ran towards her brother, who was 
making all speed to reach her. But could he reach her in time? 
And if he did, what could he do ? He had no pistol ; he had noth- 
ing to fight that mad wolf with except a pocket knife, and what 
was a pocket knife against a mad coyote? True he might possibly 
kill it, but it would be certain to bite either him or Bess. IVhich ? 
Most probably both. But Bess must be saved at any cost, though 
his life might be the forfeit — the brother love was strong within 
him, and, regardless of consequences to himself, the noble fellow 
almost flew to his little sister’s assistance. 


56 








A TALE OF TEXAS 


It was a fearful alternative, but he never thought of hesitating; 
no, not for one second. Bess must be saved, was his only thought. 
But could he reach her in time? It looked impossible. The mad 
coyote was fast lessening the distance between himself and Bess; 
it was almost upon her. Only six feet apart now, another jump 
and it would catch her sure; its white teeth would sink into her 
soft fleshy and then? In pity draw the veil — shut out the thought 
— it is too horrible. Bob’s brain was in a whirl. He strained 
every muscle; he almost flew; his face was white with terror. No 
use trying, he cannot do the impossible. Only one chance in a 
thousand,, but he takes it — all others have failed. He stoops and 
picks up a large rock, and as he rises he braces himself to throw; 
he sees the coyote rise for the final spring; he throws with all his 
might. One second more and it would have been too late; the 
coyote is in the air; its paws almost touch Bess’s shoulders; it 
stretches forth its horrid mouth to bite her, but, God be thanked, 
the rock goes true and strikes the coyote in the neck. Its force 
stops the coyote, it falls to the ground, and Bess is saved for the 
moment. Bob takes her in his arms as he rushes past, and with all 
possible speed he makes for the camp, but the coyote is coming 
too. It was only temporarily stopped — not even stunned — and re- 
covering itself it is now in close pursuit of the noble boy with 
his precious burden. 

But the commotion has been heard in camp, and as the fiying 
figure comes in sight Jeff takes in the situation at a glance and, 
grabbing the ax, he rushes to the rescue of his beloved friend. 
Well it was that he did, for the coyote was fast gaining on the 
Texan. Encumbered as he was by the weight of Bess, Bob could 
not possibly have gotten away. 

‘^Dodge, Bob, dodge!” Jeff screamed, and Bob jumped to one 
side just in time to keep the coyote from landing on his shoulders. 
As the coyote hit the ground a swift blade flashed into the air; 
the blow went true and a mad coyote with head split open lay on 
the ground quivering. 


57 


CHAPTEE X. 


And then came the big camp meeting. It was held by Major 
Penn, in 1879, and was the largest camp meeting that Major Penn 
ever held as far as results were concerned, for there were between 
four hundred and five hundred conversions. 

Major Penn was a noted evangelist, a Baptist in belief. The 
reason his meeting in Georgetown was such a success was that the 
Christians of other denominations took part in his meeting (as 
Christians always ought to do), and while, as a fact, more of the 
converts joined the Baptist Church than any other church, yet all 
the churches were materially benefited. 

It was the first time in the history of Georgetown that the 
Christians had unitedly attended any camp meeting. Before that 
it had been too much either a Methodist meeting, a Presbyterian 
meeting, or a Baptist meeting — I^m afraid that there had been 
too much sectarianism displayed and too little Christianity — but 
in Major Penn^s meeting it was not so and it opened up a new era 
in Georgetown among Christians themselves. 

The camp meeting was held at the old Fair Ground Springs, 
in a beautiful grove, by a river, clear and cold, for its waters were 
mostly fed from the numerous springs that have their source right 
there. There are at least twenty springs within a quarter of a 
mile of each other, and they are all freely flowing. In a word, 
nature could not have made a more ideal place for a camp meet- 
ing — nature had done her very best. 

It was a good old-fashioned camp meeting; the time was Sep- 
tember, and not too cold. Many campers came from the surround- 
ing counties and camped during the meeting. 

Town and country met at this camp meeting, and it wasn’t long 
before everybody knew everybody else, and everybody was glad 
that ^Ve were having a good meeting” and sinners were being 
saved right and left. The men would hold the men’s sundown 
prayer meeting out in the woods in one direction, and the good 
women would hold the women’s sundown prayer meeting out in 
the woods in another direction, and everybody was happy because 
ever 3 ^body was doing right. 


58 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


The people from town would bring out their suppers and spread 
their tablecloths on the gravel bar down by the river; there the 
campers would often join them, and many fast friendships were 
formed there that will last throughout eternity. After supper 
and the sundown prayer meetings were over all would come to- 
gether for the night service. Who can ever forget them — the flar- 
ing lamps, the immense crowd, the deep bass voice of Major Penn, 
the campflres and the camps, the flag seats full of mourners, the 
choir on the rostrum flanked on either side by the good old men 
and women, the fervent prayers, the powerful sermon, the happy 
conversions! Xo wonder Heaven smiled upon a scene like that, 
and the stars in God^s canopy above (as you saw them through the 
trees) seemed to twinkle brighter than anywhere' else in the 
heavens. 

Methinks they did, for here it was, in God’s temple, in the 
heart of nature, that man, God’s creature, got close to his Creator 
in acceptable worship. 

It was here that man got close to God, I say, and no wonder 
that the Father smiled and showered down His blessings like dews 
from Heaven. For good, old, pure, genuine, old-fashioned re- 
ligion give me an old-fashioned camp meeting. Protracted meet- 
ings held in town churches are good, but the old-fashioned camp 
meetings held in God’s temple, out in the woods, are better. 

It was at this camp meeting that Bob Lee was converted and 
became a Christian. Before it he had always been regarded as 
a good moral boy, but not a Christian. The truth of the matter 
was that he did not go to church much before this — only once or 
twice a year — because he said that whenever he did go the preacher 
would preach about hell and hell Are (that kind of preaching was 
very much indulged in then), and it would scare him so badly that 
he would usually literally ^Take to the woods” every Sunday there- 
after for the next six months. Not that he went Ashing or hunting 
on Sunday — he never did that^ — but he loved nature anyway and 
loved to be out in the woods with an agreeable companion, climb- 
ing around on the bluffs on the river. It was a far more con- 
genial Sunday occupation with him than to go to church and have 
the preacher scare him half to death about hell. 

But this big camp meeting had a fascination for him, and he 

59 


THE TEXAN 


became a regular attendant. Usually he would take his chair and, 
leaning it back against an old pecan tree, not far from the preacher, 
he would quietly listen and look to see what was going on. He 
was interested in the meeting, and was really glad to see some of 
his companions make profession of religion and join the church. 
But somehow it never occurred to him that he ought to do the 
same thing himself. 

One night when he saw Jeff Bullington rise quietly in the con- 
gregation, saw the happy smile upon his face as he walked up and 
gave the preacher his hand, it broke Bob Lee all up, and forsaking 
his post by the old pecan tree he walked off out into the woods by 
himself, and there he stayed until after the service was over. His 
heart was torn by conflicting emotions. He did not shed a tear, 
but he did some hard thinking, and in the agony of his heart I 
am not sure but that he prayed. He had always expected to be- 
come a Christian some time, but the time had always been future. 
When? His mother and father and sister Laura were Christians, 
all devoted members of the Baptist church; Merle was a Christian, 
had joined the Presbyterian church long before she came to Texas; 
and now here was Jeff making a profession, and he doubtless 
would join some church. Bob Lee for the first time in his life 
felt lonesome and ill at east. What should he do? Out there in 
the woods, under the stars, he fought his battle alone. For an 
hour or more he wrestled with himself, thinking, thinking, think- 
ing. 

don’t understand it; I can’t see through it. Anyway there 
will be another day after this one,” he said half aloud, and mount- 
ing his pony he galloped into town. 

But that night before he got into his bed he did something 
which he had long neglected, something which he had learned at 
his mother’s knee — he knelt and said his prayers. His rest was 
broken; his dreams were troubled. Before day he awoke; he lay 
there in bed an hour or more thinking. It was Sunday morning. 
The day dawned bright and fair, and God’s sun shone in his win- 
dow. The wind was still. All without was quiet and still, but 
in his bosom was a tumult. 

It was a custom at this camp meeting to have an early morning 

60 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


service from nine to ten^ an interim of an. hour, and then the 
regular morning service beginning at eleven. 

Bob decided to attend the early service. He arrived a little 
late and took his accustomed place by the old pecan. Yes, there 
was Jeff Bullington up in the choir. Was he mistaken or was it 
true that he caught Jeff looking at him during the service? Cer- 
tainly he could not be mistaken about the pleading of Jeff’s face 
and the mute appeal in his eyes when Major Penn made a stir- 
ring appeal after the sermon. 

He heard the appeal of Major Penn, but it did not move him; 
he saw the mute appeal of his chum, but he kept his place by the 
old pecan and tried to look unconcerned. The benediction was 
pronounced; the service was over. The expected happened. Bob 
would have been surprised if it had not. What he feared was com- 
ing to pass, for yonder came Jeff to him. Bob Lee pretended not 
to see him. He turned away and walked rapidly as if going to 
the spring. He was running away from his very best friend. 
Isn’t it strange how people will fight to keep from becoming 
Christians ? 

But Jeff Bullington was in earnest and he was not going to be 
dodged in any such way. 

‘^Bob, Bob,” he called. 

Bob Lee kept on; he heard, but he pretended not to. 

^^Bob, Bob,” the call was repeated much louder than before. 

He couldnT get away; he knew that Jeff knew that he had 
heard him. He stopped short and faced Jeff; he looken sullen. 
^^Cuess I’ll have to stop and take my medicine,” he thought. 

Jeff was too much in earnest to even say “good morning,” and 
instead he said, “Bob, let’s take a walk.’^ 

There was nothing to do but consent, and it was the first time 
in his life that Jeff had not been an agreeable companion. Bob 
knew what was coming. Out in the woods together, down to the 
river they Went. The path was only wide enough for one at a 
time, and Jeff led the way. Bob kept dropping further and fur- 
ther behind. He had half a notion to take a sneak. No, he 
wouldn’t treat Jeff that way. Jeff left the path, making his way 
towards an old fallen tree. Bob knew that he intended to sit 
down there. 


61 


THE TEXAN 


‘‘0, Je&.” he said, ^‘^yonder is the old sycamore that Ed Talbot 
and I cut our names on a few years ago. I wonder if they show 
plain yet?’^ 

He made all haste to see — it was wonderful how very interested 
he became ail at once about that old sycamore tree. 

Jeff did not answer, but quietly sat himself down on the tree 
that had fallen and waited. He didnT seem much interested about 
the old sycamore tree, so Bob thought. 

A wild duck swam out from under the willows near Bob. Good 
old duck, thought Bob; j^ouTe a Godsend. I think myself it 
was a deviFs send. Bob became very interested in killing that 
duck. He just missed it with the rock he threw at it. Foolish 
duck, it flew away. It might have been accommodating and 
stayed there for him to throw at, but the foolish duck flew off 
and that diversion was gone and he didn’t know where he would 
find another. 

A voice came to him from where Jeff sat. 

^‘Come here. Bob,” it said; ‘T want to talk to you about some- 
thing a great deal more important than sycamore trees and ducks.” 

There was no use dodging any longer, and Bob went and sat 
down on the old fallen tree that Jeff w^as sitting on, and sat 
facing Jeff. 

“Bob, I w^ant to see you a Christian,” Jeff began. “I never 
knew before last night what it meant; I’ve always had a vague 
idea, but I know what it means now, and, Bob, you can’t afford 
not to be a Christian. I know that you are no coward, because 
I have seen you tried, and I don’t believe that fear is the highest 
motive for any one to become a Christian anyway; but I’ll tell 
you it is a wonderfully comfortable feeling to be a Christian and 
know when you lie down to sleep that if you should die before 
you awake that you are all right for eternity. I know that I don’t 
have to argue with you that it is manly to be a Christian. You 
nor I have ever believed that Christianity was for women and 
children only. Of course it is for women and children; it is their 
best friend, but the trouble is often that a good many shallow- 
brained men think Christianity is for women and children only, 
and are in reality not men enough to be Christians themselves. 
It takes a sure enough man to be man enough to be a Christian. 


62 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


No man lowers himself to become a Christian; he elevates him- 
self instead/^ 

For about half an hour the conversation continued. At first 
Bob was reticent and seemingly unconcerned, but his friend^s 
earnestness and arguments overcame his reticence at last, and he 
frankly told Jeff that his own conversion the night before had 
affected him, and that he really wished that he himself was a 
Christian; that he really was repentant and wanted to become a 
Christian, but that he did not understand just how to do so. 

Like so many people he had gotten the matter all jumbled up 
and confused in his own mind. He had been a moral boy all of 
his life, and had seen many professed Christians do things that 
he would not have done; and in his heart he felt that if they ever 
got to Heaven, that he ought to also, and frankly said so to Jeff. 

‘^There is just where so many people get things mixed,^^ Jeff 
replied. “You’ve got faith and works all mixed up. They are 
two different and distinct things. I believe in people living as 
good lives as they can, whether Christians or not, but that is not 
going to get anybody into Heaven. I like to see anyone live a 
good moral life. There is only one trouble that I see about it, 
but that is a very grave trouble. Morality alone never took any- 
one to Heaven; it’s good as far as it goes, but it doesn’t go far 
enough. 

“How one lives after becoming a Christian measures the amount 
of his reward in Heaven, and has nothing whatever to do with 
his going to Heaven. Get that, will you? Getting to Heaven is 
one thing — the amount of your reward in Heaven is another 
thing. The question of whether you go to Heaven or not is de- 
cided by whether you depend on Christ to take you there or not. 
If you do, then the question of the amount of your reward in 
Heaven depends, not upon Christ, but upon you; it depends on 
the amount of your good works after you have become a Christian. 
A belief that Christ will save you and a dependence on him to 
do it will give you a free ticket into Heaven; how much reward 
you’ll get when you get there depends upon your life after you 
are saved. They are two separate and distinct transactions, and 
the first is in no way dependent upon the second, although the 
second is dependent in a measure upon the first; for what use 

63 


THE TEXAH 


would reward in Heaven do you if you could never get there to 
enjoy it. Anyway, God never promises a man a reward in Heaven 
until after he has become a Christian. 

“Let me see if I can illustrate what I mean. Suppose you say 
to me: ^Jeff, I have no horse and 1^11 give you fifty dollars for 
your horse if youfil bring it to me at the store tomorrow.^ ‘^All 
right/ I agree, and to-morrow I take my horse to you at the store 
and you pay me the fifty dollars as agreed. The fifty dollars is 
then mine and the horse is yours. After I deliver you the horse 
3 ^ou say: ^Jeff, I ought to have your buggy and harness to go 
with my horse; Til give you seventy-five dollars for your buggy 
and harness if you’ll save them for me until the first of next 
month.’ I agree, and, true to my promise, on the first of the 
month I take you the buggy and harness, but . you haven’t saved 
up as much money as you intended and haven’t the money to pay 
for the biigg-y and harness. Maybe you can bu}" the harness only, 
but can’t and don’t take the buggy. Whether you do or not, what 
has that got to do with the horse trade? Hot a thing. The horse 
trade was completed when I delivered you the horse and you gave 
me the fifty dollars for it. That was a trade and a completed one, 
whether you ever bought the buggy and harness or not. Christ 
says, Mepend on Me to take you to Heaven and I’ll take you 
there’ — that’s the horse trade of my illustration, and the com- 
pletion of it gives you Heaven. Then God comes along and says 
to your heart, ^How you are a Christian and will go to Heaven 
when you die; but you ought to live like a Christian for the bal- 
ance of your life, and if you do I will give you a reward in 
Heaven.’ You know that’s right, and you are grateful for being 
saved and want the reward, and agree. You start out as a Chris- 
tian to be all that a Christian ought to be. That is the buggy and 
harness trade of my illustration. How/ whether you carry out 
your good intentions to live right or do not, and only carry out 
a part of them and consequently get a large or small reward in 
Heaven, has nothing whatever to do with whether you get to 
Heaven; that has already been settled. 

“But if you are a Christian you will carry out at least a part 
of your second agreement and get some reward in Heaven.” 


64 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


^‘That looks plain/’ said Bob Lee. ‘T never heard it explained 
that way before.” 

^'Look here, Bob,” said Jeff, as he pulled a little Testament out 
of his pocket. ‘^Here is a little pocket Testament that Laura gave 
me some tome ago ; you see she marked it for me. Look here what 
it says in John^ fifth chapter and twenty-fourth verse: ‘Verily, 
verily, I say unto you, he that heareth My word, and believeth on 
Him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into 
condemnation; but is passed from death unto life,’ and here in 
John, third chapter and thirty-sixth verse, it is a little plainer 
still : ‘He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life ; and he 
that believeth not the Son shall not see life. But the wrath of 
God abideth on him.’ Xow what could be plainer than that? That 
doesn’t say anything about not going to Heaven if you don’t live 
right after you make a profession of conversion, does it? There 
is nothing like that there. There are no conditions at all, except 
that you must believe. And that means not a head belief, but a 
heart belief — a dependence. It’s just this way. If you believe that 
Christ can save you and take you to Heaven, and you want to go 
there, you’ll depend on Him to do so — your part is to believe. His 
part is to say. That’s all there is to it; that’s all there is of it.” 

“That’s fair; that’s plain. I’ll do that,” said Bob Lee, and he 
anchored his soul for eternity on Christ, the Solid Eock. He 
never did bother himself about his salvation after that. 

“I am often bothered about the way I live,” I’ve often heard 
him say, “but I’ve never bothered any about my salvation since 
the day I believed. That’s none of my business now — that’s 
Christ’s business, I turned that job over to Him when I believed, 
when I accepted his proposition. I did my part, I believed; I 
have a right to expect Him to carry out His part of the propo- 
sition, and I do. I’m just as sure to go to Heaven as there is a 
Heaven because Christ has agreed to carry me there. That ques- 
tion is settled. The unsettled question is, what amount of reward 
I’ll get when I get there.” 

The Sunday following Bob’s conversion the Baptists had a b’g 
baptizing at Major Penn’s camp meeting. Two that were bap- 
tized were Jeff Bullington and Bob Lee. 

There were two things about the baptizing that were out of the 


65 


THE TEXAH 


ordinary. One was the number of those baptized — there were 
seventy-five baptized that evening. The other was that one old 
sister lost her false teeth when she went under the water, and such 
a time as she did have scratching around for them until she found 
them. 




66 


CHAPTER XI. 


About six months after Major Penn’s, camp meeting Bob Lee 
called on Merle Bullington one night. The two were becoming 
fast friends — maybe more. I don’t know exactly who Bob liked 
the better, Merle Bullington or Mattie Wooten. He liked both 
and seemed to divide his attentions about equally between the two. 
In fact, there was a third girl that seemed to claim about as much 
of his attentions as either Merle Bullington or Mattie Wooten — a 
little Yankee girl named Effie Stone. By this I do not mean to 
say that Bob Lee was trying to flirt. I never saw a boy tiiat 
seemed to detest a flirt, male or female, more than he did, and 
I doubt if up to this time he had said a word of love to either of 
the three girls — he liked them all and liked to be in their com- 
pany, but he was not trying to deceive either of them. As a mat- 
ter of fact. Merle had a sweetheart back in Virginia and Jack 
Wooten was a constant caller at her home now, and as for Mattie, 
she didn’t try to conceal that she liked Bob, but at the same time 
there was no question but that she seemed very tender towards 
Howel Caldwell. Effie Stone had a sweetheart up North, although 
some people said they did not know whether she loved the man or 
his money more. She liked Bob Lee, and Bob enjo3^ed being with 
her, for she was splendid company and a flne girl. 

Effie was augry at Bob for a while, though, for she heard of a 
remark he made about her mouth, but she afterwards laughed 
about it herself. She did have an awful large mouth. Bob’s re- 
mark about it Avasn’t very nice, nor was it very reverent, but any- 
body who ever saw Effie Stone’s mouth Avill agree that it was quite 
appropriate. Bob said, that he always had believed that God could 
do anything, but that he didn’t believe that even God could make 
Effie Stone’s mouth any bigger without setting her ears back. 

Bob was a confldant of all three of the girls — somehow his very 
face invited confidence, and it seemed that anybody would tell him 
anything in the world he wished to know. His mother said that 
he ought to have been a detective because he could find out so 
much. He never betra3^ed a confidence, and that trait in his char- 
acter was so well known that any girl felt safe in telling him 


67 


THE TEXAN 


things, because she was sure that he would never repeat them. I 
have seen him in a crowd that was discussing and surmising about 
some certain thing, and while I was aware that he knew more 
about it than any one of them, yet he would not say a word, but 
only listen, and you would never have known that he knew a thing 
about the matter under discussion — ^he had been told about it in 
confidence and sacredly would he keep that trust. He could be 
trusted with a secret. He was a friend of all three girls — ^he pre- 
tended to be nothing more to either of them. 

The sterling qualities of the Texan were appreciated by all three 
girls. If either of them at this time had any tenderer feeling for 
him than that of friend they never told me; it may be that they 
did. 

I have made this explanation just to show you the true state of 
affairs and that there was no special significance in the fact 
that Bob Lee was calling on Merle Bullington on this particular 
night. 

But what I do want to tell you is a part of the conversation be- 
tween them on this particular night, because it was so very dif- 
ferent from what young people usually talk about. 

They were sitting out on the porch in the moonlight, and the 
Texan was telling Merle some of his experiences as a young Chris- 
tian and some funny things that happened in his church and 
Sunday school. 

^^You know, Merle, that right after Major Penn^s camp meeting 
they organized a young men^s prayer meeting here. It was non- 
sectarian, and was meant to develop the young men who were con- 
verted at Major Penn’s meeting. In it the young men were taught 
to pray in public, to talk in public and to lead prayer meetings. 
In addition to that, the young men took charge of any cases of 
sickness among the men or boys of town that were being neglected ; 
they learned how to nurse the sick, and to disburse charity wher- 
ever it was needed. It was a fine thing to develop young Chris- 
tians. The hardest thing about it that I had to learn was to pray 
in public. Pll tell you it was a bitter dose. I knew that whatever 
mistakes I might make would be borne with and that nobody would 
make fun of me, but somehow it just seemed like that I couldn’t 
do it. I didn’t know what to do. I felt that all the other boys 


68 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


were learning to pray in public, but somehow I was afraid to try 
it — I was afraid IM get stuck in the middle of my prayer, or some- 
thing ; I didn’t know what would happen. A happy thought struck 
me. I’d write me out a prayer and memorize it thoroughly. Happy 
thought. So I wrote me out a nice prayer, not a long one either, 
and thoroughly memorized it. What a clever solution of the mat- 
ter, I thought. I went to the next young men’s prayer meeting 
fearing the leader would call on me to pray, and yet inwardly 
hoping that he would not. Sure enough he called on me for the 
second prayer, and with fear and trepidation I got down on my 
knees. Do you know what happened to me? Not one word of my 
written and memorized prayer could I remember ; it had completely 
gone from me. If ever a poor fellow really prayed silently that 
he might pray out loud I was that fellow. They say I made a 
good prayer, but not a word of that written prayer was in it ex- 
cept ‘Amen’ — ^it seemed like an old friend when I got to it. But 
it taught me a lesson. I’ll never try to write and memorize another 
prayer.” 

Merle enjoyed the honest confession, and even Bob laughed at 
the recollection. 

“Let me tell you about my sister Laura’s Sunday school class. 
Laura has the infant class of boys and girls from four to eight 
years old, and they keep Laura guessing what they are going to 
say and do next. Not long ago Laura concluded she would find 
out how many of the little tots said their prayers before they went 
to bed, and she did not want to ask them the direct question, so 
she asked little Jimmie Thomas, ‘Jimmie, what do you do just 
before you go to bed?’ 

“ ‘Pull off my clothes,’ said Jimmie. 

“ ‘Yes, but what’s the last thing you say before you go to sleep?’ 

“ ‘I say, cover me up,’ promptly replied Jimmie. 

“Children of that age are alwa5^s telling the truth, too — it takes 
a child to tell the truth — and sometimes the unexpected comes out. 

“Laura was teaching them the temperance lesson a few Sundays 
ago, and depicting the awful results of drinking; the children 
were all eyes and ears, and little Willie Lorrance stopped her talk 
to say in a stage whisper: ‘Miss Laura, my pa got awful drunk 


69 


THE TEXAN 


one time/ While little Walter McDougle solemnly announced, 
^Miss Laura, I’m never going to drink any more/ 

^‘The truth was very plain that Walter’s father had been letting 
little Walter taste the toddy, and of his own accord the little five- 
year-old had sworn off. A little bit young to swear off, but I hope 
Walter will stick to it. 

“But the worst they ever got away with poor Laura was last 
Sunday. Faithfully was she laboring to teach them what prayer 
meant, and that we ought to ask God for just what things we 
really want worst, when little, old, mischievous Lulu Shell popped 
up and said, Aliss Laura, I know what you ask God for when 
you pray.’ 

“^What, my dear?’ 

“ ^You ask God for a husband,’ and all the children giggled and 
Laura’s face turned red, of course. I tell you, Laura has a time 
with that class. Poor girl ! She thinks it her duty to teach that 
class, and nobly she sticks to it, but she never knows what is com- 
ing next.” 

Kind reader, I believe that you and I are forgetting our man- 
ners. Nobody asked us, but here we are listening to every word 
that Bob and Merle are saying, and I am sure that they would 
like to be by themselves for a while. Let’s go away and come back 
after a while. 


70 


CHAPTEK XII. 


Merle, did you ever notice how many funny things hap- 
pen in church?” 

^^No,” she replied, ^^I hardly ever see anything funny in church.” 

^AVell, that is a good fault you Presbyterians have of being so 
solemn in church. I^m sure you are right about it, but as for me 
you know that I am so mean that if I see anything funny, it’s 
funny to me in church the same as anywhere else. I never have 
laughed at a funeral yet, but I do see lots of things to laugh at 
in church. 

“We once had a preacher who belonged to our church. Brother 
Gibbons by name. He never had preached, but he was going to 
make a preacher out of himself, and when Brother Hill went off 
to hold a protracted meeting he announced that Brother Gibbons 
would preach for us the next Sunday — just kinder practice on us, 
you know. We were like the prisoners in the jail when the young 
preachers go to preach to them ; that is, we couldn^t get away and 
we didn't want to hurt Brother Gibbons’s feelings anyway. He 
was a good man, and we all liked him, although we were some- 
what doubtful about him ever setting the world afire as a preacher. 

“Anyway we all went to church next Sunday, and Brother Gib- 
bons got up to preach, and preached a pretty good sermon, too. 
He surprised us. He finished his sermon and looked at his watch 
to see how long he had been preaching. Lo and behold ! He 
hadn’t been preaching but ten minutes. That won’t do, thought 
Brother Gibbons, that’s not long enough, and he began right at 
the beginning of that sermon and preached it all over again — ^he 
had memorized it word for word. He looked at his watch again; 
just ten minutes more had gone by. Brother Gibbons had a pained 
expression about his face. Poor man, he did not know what to do. 
His sermon was all right, but there wasn’t enough of it. It’s an 
honest fact that he preached us that same sermon the third time. 

“That wasn’t funny to Brother Gibbons, but I’ll tell you it was 
to the congregation, and when he looked at his watch again, we did 
not know but that he was going to give us that sermon for the 


71 


THE TEXAN 


fourth time, and it was quite a relief when he called for the 
doxology. 

^^Brother Bay is our regular pastor, and a funny thing hap- 
pened to him about a month ago. He is a good preacher and he 
was giving us one of his best. His subject was, ^The Soft South 
Wind,^ and he was warming to his subject ; he was making a beau- 
tiful description of ‘The Soft South Wind’ — how mild it was, etc., 
and the first thing he knew a sudden storm came up, a regular 
twister, and I’ll vow I thought it was going to blow the roof off 
of the church, and there was Brother Bay preaching about ‘The 
Soft South Wind.’ 

“Deacon McCarty is ,one qf our deacons. He has forgotten 
which side he parts his hair on because he has been bald so long 
that he hasn’t parted it in years. He got sensitive about being 
bald once and went to Uncle Henry Burkhardt, the barber^ to get 
‘Uncle Buck’ to get him a wig. 

“ ‘All right, I gets you a wig; all you have to do is shust to send 
a lock of 3^our hair and they send you a wig shust the same color.’ 

“ ‘Yes, but where am I going to get the lock of hair to send. 
Uncle Buck?’ 

“The fact is he was almost as bald as Wilson Armstrong, and 
Wilson rents out his head to the flies for a skating rink and fails 
to collect the rent. 

“Deacon McCarty was holding prayer meeting for us one niglit 
and he was faithfully doing his best in exhorting those present to 
do right, but unfortunately he w^as standing up on the pulpit, right 
under the light, and the candle bugs were having a picnic lighting 
on that bald head. He would brush them off and go on with his 
exhortation, but when a devil’s horse lit on that bald pate, peeped 
over the top and looked wise at the congregation, it almost broke 
up the meeting. Good old Deacon McCarty did not discover it 
for a while, but when he did he gave it a side swipe with his 
hand. He could not keep his own face straight, how could the 
congregation be expected to look solemn? 

“Merle,” he asked abruptly, ^^do you know why it is that Pres- 
byterians are hardly ever fat?” 

“No,” came the indignant reply. “Why?” 

“ ‘Laugh and grow fat’ is an old proverb,” he answered, “and 


72 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


you Presbyterians won’t always laugh when you see funny things, 
therefore,” he gravely announced, ^hnost Presbyterians are lean.” 

She knew he was only teasing her, yet she couldn’t help but be 
a little spunky anyway. 

^^You old selfish Baptists think you are the only people in the 
world anyway; the whole set is just as egotistical as they can be,” 
she retorted. 

It tickled the Texan immensely. He had intended to draw her 
fire, and it tickled him to see how successful he had been. 

^^Certainly, Merle, you don’t think I am egotistical, do you?” 
he asked. 

"‘Yes, I do,” she snapped back at him — ^he would have been sur- 
prised if she had said, ‘^No, I don’t.” 

‘^Don’t you know that nobody will think anything of you if you 
don’t think something of yourself?” he asked. 

^^Yes, that’s true; but the most people that I have known who 
were egotistical had very little to be egotistical about,” she retorted. 

^^Too true,” replied the Texan, “but would you take the position 
that any person who really had something to be egotistical about 
was not smart enough to know it?” 

“Xo, but too smart to show it,” she answered. 

“There we agree perfectly,” he answered, “anyone who has a 
right to be egotistical is nearly always too smart to show it. All 
smart men like myself hide it,” he added, and cleared his throat. 

“Something wrong in your statement of facts,” she answered, 
“because didn’t I tell you that you are egotistical ?” 

“I was once,” he answered, and he was not laughing now. 
“When I quit school at an early age I was just about as egotistical 
a fool as you ever saw. I thought I was about The only pebble 
on the beach,’ but when I got out in the world and began rubbing 
up against the realities of life, it didn’t take me long to realize 
that There were others.’ A boy in school lives in a theoretical 
world; put him out in the practical, everyday world and let him 
rustle for himself for a while, and it will knock egotism out of 
him faster than anything I know of. I’m not near as smart now 
as I was when I quit school. In fact, it is not a hard matter at 
all for me to find just plenty of people now that are fully as 


73 


THE TEXAN 


smart as I am. I find them in droves that I know are a great deal 
smarter than I am — it wasn’t that way when I quit school. 

‘‘I have a recipe for egotism/’ he continued, ^^and it’s a good 
one, even if it is home-made. Most people don’t think anything is 
good unless it is made away from home, you know, but my recipe 
is all right, because it cured me, and mine seems to me to have 
been rather an aggravated case of the swellhead. My recipe is 
simple and short; you can’t forget it; it is simply to go star- 
gazing. I’m getting sentimental, am I not, talking about the 
stars? Well, you wait until I get through before you go and tell 
anybody that Bob Lee got sentimental while talking to you. Here’s 
what I mean. In the first place, my egotism cure has the best 
results when taken while you are alone, with your thoughts only 
for company. If you are troubled with egotism,” he continued, 
with a merry twinkle in his eye, “and have a better estimate of 
yourself than anybody else has of you, you should do as I have 
done. 

“Some bright star-lit night take your pillow and your pallet 
and lie down upon the green grass out in the open. Lying there 
upon your back and oblivious of all things earthly, look up into 
the starry heavens, unbridle your thoughts and give them free 
rein to wander, wander, wander, even into the farthest realms of 
infinity. You will be looking at the stars — God’s stars — thousands 
of them you can see with your naked eye — thousands of them you 
know you cannot see without a powerful telescope, and yet you 
know that those unseen stars are even now doing their very best 
to perform their missions and, although so far distant that the 
human sight falls back upon itself in utter impotency to master 
the intervening space, so far it is, yet those same unseen stars are 
sending their tiny rays of light to help light up this great big 
world of ours. Surely, surely, it must be an all-powerful God 
that could place the stars in the heavens and keep them there. 
Compared to such a God how small we are — ^how infinitesimally 
small we are. Turn loose your imagination and let it wander a 
while among the stars ; many of them are larger than the earth, so 
the astronomers tell us. Yonder is Mars, inhabited they say, and 
it’s almost sure that many of the other stars are also inhabited. I 
wonder if up yonder on Mars there is a being who looks like me. 


74 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


who talks like me, who thinks like me, who does like me — who does 
and says and thinks the same things I do? Is my double, my 
other self, there on Mars? Is he there on Mars now talking to 
another Merle about exactly the same thing that I am talking to 
you? I wonder whether that is true or not? And yonder is 
another bright star, millions of miles away from Mars. And our 
poor little minds get wrecked and lost trying to travel, even in 
thought, the almost immeasureable distance from one star to 
another. I wonder if that bright star is inhabited also, and if you 
and I have each another double there — a third self of each other. 
It may be the people there are more numerous and more intelli- 
gent than we are. It may be that they know all about this little 
earth of ours while we, in the impotency of our small intellects, 
can only surmise and wonder about them. I wonder how many 
of the thousands of stars we know about are inhabited, and 
whether there are thousands and thousands of stars more that 
we don’t know that even exist, and if so, are they inhabited, too? 
How I wish I knew more ! How I wish I could bridge the inter- 
vening space with such a lofty intellect that I could cross over 
to the intervening star worlds and know for myself what they are 
doing there and what sort of beings they are; what are their pur- 
suits, their thoughts, their hopes for the future? 

^‘But my poor little brain whirls and fumes and frets at the 
prison bars of, its own impotency, and the best it can do is to 
wonder and wonder about the distant star worlds. 

“There are very few things that our smartest people know, even 
about this little world of ours, and Yery little that all of us to- 
gether know about some things in this world — electricity, for in- 
stance. I don’t think that all the people in our world yet know 
the A B C’s of electricity. Once in a while some human being 
like an Edison, because he happens to know just a little more than 
the rest of us along a certain line, either by design or more often 
by accident, discovers some little thing about electricity that we 
did not know before, and we shout our plaudits and say, ^hat 
a giant intellect he has !’ There are no giant intellect-. When it 
comes to intellect, we all are pygmies. Compared to v/hat the rest 
of us know perhaps some one could truthfully be said to have a 
giant intellect, but compared to what that intellectual giant might 

75 


THE TEXAN 


know and doesn’t, the very brightest are but pygmies intellectually. 
In almost any line, the possibilities of the undiscovered compared 
with what little we know makes intellectual pygmies of us all. 
Intellectually^ we are all like ant-hills — one perhaps a wee bit 
higher than the others, but, comparatively, all about equidistant 
from the sun. There are many things, even in this little world 
of ours, that we know as little about as we do about electricity, 
and as for what is going on in the other star worlds we absolutely 
know nothing. Plow very, very little we do know ! How many 
people do you know. Merle?” 

She thought a minute and then replied: 

“Probably two thousand would cover all that I am personally 
acquainted with.” 

“Probably you will never know over five thousand people per- 
sonally,” said Bob Lee. “Of all the people that live in this world 
there will never be over ten thousand people who will know that 
such a person as you and I ever lived, no matter what we do (for 
neither of us ever expect to become noted) ; and what is ten thou- 
sand compared with the millions and billions of people in this 
world of ours? What atoms you and I are in this great world of 
intellectual pygmies ! 

“Now think a minute. If you and I are of comparatively so 
little importance in this world as to only be missed by the very, 
very few in case we should die and leave it, how small must either 
of us be when compared to the millions, the billions, the perhaps 
trillions, of people who inhabit the other star worlds ?” 

He stopped short in his conversation and for the space of a min- 
ute neither spoke. Each was looking up at the stars, giving free 
rein to the imagination, letting it wander uncontrolled in the im- 
measureable limits of boundless space — two finite minds engaged 
in the futile effort to compass infinity. 

It was the boy who spoke first. 

“Do you still think that I am egotistical?” he asked. 

“I don’t see how anybody could be,” was her answer. 


76 


CHAPTER XIII. 


Kind reader, whom do you wish Bob Lee to marry ? I donT know 
what your answer will be, but things were beginning to look rather 
serious between Bob Lee and Mattie Wooten. The truth of the 
matter was that, although not engaged (for Mattie Wooten was 
still a schoolgirl), there was a tacit understanding between the 
two. He had even gone so far as to give her a ring, although 
both understood that it was not an engagement ring. He had 
known Mattie a long time and had taken note of her good quali- 
ties, as she had of his, and their long friendship had ripened into 
love. They had always been good friends, and until Merle Bulling- 
ton came to Texas most of the community had never doubted but 
that it was only a question of time until Mattie Wooten would 
become Mrs. Bob Lee, although for the past two years he had been 
paying almost as much attention to Effie Stone as he had to Mattie 
Wooten and most people thought that Effie Stone would marry 
him in a minute if she ever got an opportunity. But no matter 
what other people thought about it, there was one thing sure and 
that is that Bob Lee was not deceiving either one of the girls — 
each of them knew the truth. 

Mattie Wooten had one little habit that I never knew any young 
lady to have before or since. That habit was that whenever she 
got a new dress she never would wear it anywhere until she went 
with Bob Lee. Peculiar- idea, wasnT it ? 

It was one night during the summer of 1880 that Bob Lee called 
on Mattie Wooten and a very strange thing happened. He saw, 
when she entered the parlor, that she seemed distressed and wor- 
ried; of course he had no idea why. He had all the conversation 
to himself for a while, for she would answer only in monosyllables. 
This state of affairs could not last — there must be an explanation 
—and earnestly did the Texan question her as to the cause of her 
actions. At first she put him off with some trivial explanation, 
but he was not to be put off in any such way. 

^^ThaPs not it, Mattie; iPs something else, and I know it,^’ he 
said. 

She summoned up all her courage. ^^Bob,” she said, have 

77 


THE TEXAH 


been tijing to tell you for some time, but I just couldn’t, and yet 
I must. Bob, I can’t marry you.” 

A thunderbolt out of a clear sky would not have astonished him 
more. 

^‘Why?” he demanded, ‘‘^have you quit loving me,- or is there 
someone else you love better?” 

^^No, Bob, I love you better than I ever expect to love anyone 
else. You have no rival in my love ; but I’ve thought the matter 
over, and I don’t feel like I love you in the way a man like you 
deserves to be loved by the w^oman he is to marry.” 

What a situation! Here was the playmate of his youth, the 
friend of his boyhood, the sweetheart of his manhood, declaring 
in one breath that she loved him better than she ever expected to 
love anyone else and that he had no rival in her affections, and 
yet, in the next breath, saying she loved him too much to marry 
him. 

^^Mattie, what kind of a foolish notion is that?” he asked. “You 
say that you truly love me and still won’t marry me. What can 
you mean by such a contradiction?” 

“Yes, Bob, I love you too well to marry you; it wouldn’t be 
treating you right for me to marry you.” 

What did she mean? Had she really grown cold in her love 
for him and was taking this method of letting him down easy and 
wanted to get rid of him, or was she sincere and conscientious in 
what she said? Which was correct? 

Bob studied and studied before he spoke. He knew that she 
was a conscientious girl and with the thought of this and of her 
other good qualities, passed before him in mental review, came 
also the thought that he must now lose her, and his great bosom 
heaved and a great groan involuntarily escaped his lips. 0, how 
he suffered ! That groan was too much for Mattie. She burst 
into tears; she threw her arms about his neck, and kissed him. 

“0, Bob,” she moaned, “why did I tell you? I can’t stand to see 
you suffer so.” 

“But you don’t love me,” he said. “You won’t marry me be- 
cause you don’t love me.” 

“But I do love you; I do love you,” she passionately exclaimed, 
“and I will marry you right now if you say so. If you wish to. 


78 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


go and get the preacher and I’ll marry you to-night. I had no 
idea that what I said would hurt you so.” 

She seemed almost beside herself, so deep were her emotions. 

‘^No, Mattie,” he said, and there was an unmistakable tone of 
sadness in his voice, ^ht can never be. I would not allow you to 
make a sacrifice like that for my sake. You told me that you 
did not love me well enough to marry me. You know your own 
heart; you calmly made the decision. I couldn’t and wouldn’t 
accept the sacrifice that in your pity for me you have just offered 
to make. It was grand of you to make the offer, Mattie; it would 
be ignoble in me to accept it.” 

She begged him to go and get the preacher and the license. 
Steadily he refused. 

^‘No, Mattie, I love you too well for that,” he said, “and be- 
sides the woman I man*}" must know that she loves me well enough 
to marry me, and for my own sake as well as yours you and I can 
never wed.” 

For several minutes they sat in silence, each busy with their 
own thoughts. 

“Here is your ring, Bob,” she finally said. 

“I don’t want it,” he answered. “If you want it, keep it, with 
the understanding that between us it signifies sincere friendship 
and nothing more. As long as you regard me as your dearest 
friend, wear that ring. If the time should ever come that you do 
not, throw that ring as far as you can. I never want it back.” 

She replaced the ring on her finger. 

“I am sure that I will always wear it,” she said. 

Years have passed since then, many changes have taken place, 
but Mattie Wooten still wears the ring. But what did she really 
mean that night she and Bob Lee broke up ? 

Had she gi’own tired of Bob Lee and wanted to get rid of him, 
or was she sincere in believing that she did not love him well 
enough to marry him, and her conscience would not let her marry 
him under those conditions, believing it to be unfair to him? Or 
was it all a scheme of hers to make Bob Lee marry her that very 
night? Which of the three is correct? To Bob Lee it is one of 
the things in his life that he cannot understand. But one thing 
is sure. Bob Lee and Mattie Wooten will always have in their 
hearts a tender spot for each other, 

79 


CHAPTER XIV. 


‘‘Good morning, Ladybird, how does my little sister feel this 
morning 

“All right, Buddie, except that I^m sleepy. I donT know 
whether I went to bed too late last nighty or got up too early this 
morning; but I^m sleepy. I guess I must have been born tired, 
or about three years behind in sleep; I don’t know which.” 

“Your eyes look like two holes in a blanket. Ladybird, but you’ll 
soon be all right. I have saddled Seelim for you to ride this morn- 
ing, as he is safer than Ramone, and I’ll ride Ramone. Jeff said 
that he would let Merle ride Button.” 

Bess and Bob were soon enjoying the slow gallop of the ponies and 
the coolness of the morning as they swept on towards the Bulling- 
ton home, for this was the Fourth of July, consequently a holiday, 
and Merle, Bess, and Bob had decided to celebrate it by taking an 
early horseback ride just after daylight. 

All at once Bob pulled his rein, Ramone slowed down to a walk, 
while Seelim dittoed, and Bob, with a disgusted look on his face 
and his nose turned up, said: 

“Bess, you smell like a negro this morning!” 

“Aw, Buddie, you know I don’t !” and her face showed the dis- 
tress that she felt. 

“Oh, but you do. Ladybird; a negro smells with her nose and 
you do, too. Don’t you smell like a negro ? Come on. Ladybird.” 
He laughed, and put spurs to Ramone, while Bess on Seelim raced 
along after. 

“You bit like a trout. Ladybird,” he said, as she raced up be- 
side him. “I was afraid you had heard that old joke before and 
the joke would have been on me, instead of you.” 

“You got me, all right, Buddie; all I ask is for you to keep quiet 
and let me try to play even on Miss Merle. When we get together 
you ride ahead of us and I’ll see if I can’t catch her like you 
caught me.” 

“All right. But it is an old joke and I’m afraid that Miss Merle 
has heard it.” 

“Maybe not. I’ll try,” she said, as they came in sight of the 


80 






‘I just am as I am and I can’t be any ammer ” — page 81. 


t 


t 


. / • 
■ r 







t 


» 






\ 




*. 


•v 


I 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


Bullington home and saw Merle already mounted on Button 
(Jeff^s pony), while Jeff, poor fellow, was seen turning the corner 
a block away, as he went back to the store. 

‘^A clerk doesnff ever have any holidays. Vll not always be a 
clerk. There is more in life than money, anyway,” Jeff was think- 
ing to himself as he walked along. 

‘^Beady and waiting, I see,” was Bob’s salutation to Merle as 
they rode up. 

‘^Yes, I am ready. How are you this morning, Bob?” 

‘^‘Oh, I am feeling fine and as handsome as ever,” he replied 
laughingly. He was disappointed at not getting the expected re- 
proof for his egotism, but Merle only said, ^^Smarty!” 

‘‘How did you rest last night. Merle?” he asked, as they rode 
along together. He was trying to get civil once more. 

“Never waked up to see,” was her curt answer^ and Bob knew 
that she still had it in for him. 

“Buddie, you certainly snored dreadfully last night. I heard 
you from my room.” 

“Oh, it’s all right to snore, Bess ; that is the sign of a good con- 
science. It shows that you are not afraid of anybody slipping up 
on you.” But Bess thought he was just making an excuse for 
keeping other people awake. 

“Snoring is not as bad as having a fish bone in your throat; 
is it Merle?” Bob asked. 

“I don’t know what you mean. What about the fish bone?” 

“Why, haven’t you heard of Bess’s fish bone? Some time ago 
Bess was eating some fish and got a bone in her throat. It took 
some* trouble to get it out, and now every time Mother wakes Bess 
up early in the morning' she pleads, ‘0, Mama, please don’t make 
me get up so early ; my fish bone hurts.’ Bess certainly works her 
limp about that fish bone to perfection.” Merle laughed heartily, 
for she knew that everybody spoiled Bess. 

“Well, Buddie,” Bess broke in, “I am just as I am and I can’t 
be any ammer, can I?” They both agreed that Bess could not 
be any “ammer.” 

The ponies were in a long gallop now and all were enjoying 
the beautiful morning. 


81 


THE TEXAH 


“Isn’t this a fine day for the race?” enthusiastically inquired 
Merle. 

“What race?” asked Bob. 

“The human race,” she laughingly answered. “Now, Mr. 
Smarty, I’m even with you at last for telling me you were ^as 
handsome as ever.’” 

That set Bob to thinking of his promise to Bess, and, as if 
purely accidental, he pulled ahead, leaving Merle and Bess to- 
gether. 

It wasn’t long before a merry peal of laughter from Bess noti- 
fied him that Bess had “caught” Merle, and he slackened speed 
until they came up. He said nothing, but the knowing look in 
his eyes and the wink which Bess gave him, and which Merle inter- 
cepted, made her know that she had been the victim of a con- 
spiracy. So, to get onto another subject, she said: 

“Bess, that is a pretty dress that you have on.” 

“Bess certainly thinks so,” Bob replied. “For ever since Mother 
made it for her, and she moved into it, you can’t get her to wear 
any other.” And Bess did not contradict him. 

“How did you like the reception last night. Bob? Mother was 
sick and I did not get to go,” said Merle. 

“To tell you the truth, I didn’t like it. It was one of those 
swell functions where everything is done according to etiquette; 
everybody is so stiff, and you have to be on your P’s and Q’s so 
much that it took all the pleasure out of it for me. One of these 
come-and-go receptions, where you are expected to gobble and git, 
is all right, and if you don’t like it you are soon out of it ; but last 
night they had a regular set supper (they called it dinner) and a 
musical program afterwards. You were expected to stay through 
it all, and, 0 my, how hot it was in those close rooms ! I nearly 
had trouble with Jeff. I saw him standing by the piano by him- 
self and knew he was as hot as a boiled lobster. I walked over 
to him and whispered in his ear: ^Jeff, if it’s too hot to keep 
your coat on, just keep it on’; but I moved out of range where 
I could not catch his reply, which, I am sure, was more forcible 
than polite. At last night’s reception every young man was ex- 
pected to wear the latest in clothes and to do exactly whatever 
etiquette should dictate. You know that I am not much on dress 


82 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


or on etiquette either. If I am neatly and cleanly dressed it isn’t 
a matter of such vital importance to me whether I have exactly 
the latest colored necktie or the newest shape of a hat. I think 
there are a great many things in life of more importance. I think 
the same about etiquette. Don’t understand me to say that I de- 
cry good manners or good breeding. Not at all; but they and 
etiquette are not always synonymous terms. Etiquette sometimes 
has some very nonsensical rules, and whenever I strike one of them 
I let the other fellow do as he pleases and I do the same. There 
is nothing nonsensical about good manners and good breeding, and 
one who has them may sometimes transgress some rule of etiquette 
and yet he a thorough gentleman. Southern chivalry is not dead 
by any means, although the days of knighthood are gone. One of 
the grandest things in the character of a true Southern gentleman 
is the homage he pays to womankind. There is no true Southern 
man, who is a man, who does not recognize a woman as his supe- 
rior, and, with all the finer instincts of which he is capable, he 
sets her upon a pedestal above himself and does her homage. A 
good woman is to him a being just a little lower than an angel, 
and he delights to do her bidding — filers to command, his to 
obey’ — and it seems to me if I were a woman I would covet and 
appreciate a man like that, even if he did occasionally get the 
wrong fork in the salad.” 

‘^You are right. Bob; any true woman will appreciate the true 
gentleman every time, although she may know he makes a few 
mistakes in etiquette,” said Merle with warmth. “But didn’t you 
enjoy the music?” she added. 

“Part of it I did,” he confessed; “that part of it that I could 
understand. I won’t mention any names, but a certain young lady 
got up to give us a vocal selection, and it seemed to me that her 
main effort was to keep any of us from understanding a single 
word she sang. I guess she must have a fine voice; other people 
said she did, and I applauded with the others for politeness’ sake; 
but when I hear anybody sing I want to hear what they say — 
that’s fully half the" song to me. But of all things, to go to one 
of these pay musicales and have some alleged vocal celebrity get 
up and give you a vocal number in French or Italian or Chinese 
or something else — that’s about the limit. That always makes me 


83 


THE TEXAH 


feel buncoed. Good old English is good enough for me, and I want 
them to sing that so I can understand it. Whenever anybody pays his 
good money to hear some good vocal music and, instead of hearing 
it, some female gets up and screeches a few remarks in Italian, I 
think that she ought to be arrested for fraud right then and there 
and sent to Italy for the balance of her life. I never did like to 
be buncoed. And this highfaluting classical instrumental music 
is nearly as bad. I like to hear a tune somewhere in a piece of 
music; but usually one of these highfaluting classical instrumental 
pieces is nothing more nor less than a job lot of musical hash, 
composed of about forty-seven different pieces of tunes all jum- 
bled together and with no connection whatever between any of the 
pieces. They remind me of a fellow trying to cross a bog hole by 
jumping from one tuft of grass to another. He will make a jump 
and land safely on a tuft of grass, and there he will quiver and 
try to keep from falling off and getting his feet wet; then he will 
jump again and do his best to land safely, and there he will cling 
until he can’t stand it any longer, and you’ll think he is going in 
sure; then he will jump again, and you are always wondering where 
he is going to land next — and he is, too — until he gets safely across. 
That may be all right to show his skill, but, as for me, if I have 
any bog holes to cross, I’d rather cross on a bridge — it’s more of 
a continuous performance, and I like it better. Of course, I 
wouldn’t say this out in company, because all the high-toned 
musical cranks would say that my ear for music was not culti- 
vated and that that was the reason why I didn’t like 'that kind 
of music. ^Everybody to their taste,’ as the old woman said when 
she kissed the cow. But as for me, I never did like hash much 
anyway.” 

Merle laughed at his description of classical music. 

^^Who was that we just passed ?” she asked. 

“That was old man Shryock, and he is noted for being the big- 
gest liar in all this country. Most people say that he never does 
tell the truth unless it is accidental.” 

“My ! but won’t the Devil keep him a long time for the lies he 
has told?” said Bess. 

They were nearly at the Bullington gate by now. It was getting 
warm and all were ready for a hearty breakfast. 


84 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


In getting off of her pony Merle had an accident. Her foot 
caught in her riding-skirt and she fell to the ground. She bruised 
her hands and face considerably, although it did not hurt her very 
much. Of course, Bob ran and picked her up. There was nothing 
for Bess to do, but she thought that she ought, at least, to say 
something, but she did not know exactly what to say. She blurted 
out : 

^^Miss Merle, donT you know it isn’t fashionable to get off of a 
horse that way ?” 


85 


CHAPTER XY. 


‘T will make you make love to me, if you will come to see me 
often enough.” 

The speaker was pretty Effie Stone. It was in June, 1881, and 
she was speaking to Bob Lee, the Texan. 

“No, you won’t, Effie; you can’t make me make love to you.” 

“I’ll show you. I never tried to make a boy make love to me in 
my life where I did not succeed, and I can make you do so, too.” 

“I’ll accept your banter and I will show you that I won’t make 
love to you. I’m coming to see you one night in every week from 
now on.” 

There was only one thing about Effie Stone that most people 
did not like, and that was that she was a flirt. She was pretty, 
jolly, and good company, but she was soft, and it was the delight 
of her life to lead the boys on until they were her abject slaves, 
and then she “looked for new worlds to conquer.” 

For Bob Lee she had always had the highest regard — ^mainly, I 
think, because he was different from the other boys. He had only 
called on her a few times this year, but had convinced her that he 
preferred to talk on some sensible subject. She had tried him 
more than once by making some slight advances — nothing special, 
and yet enough for him to know that she would not be averse “to 
getting up a case with him” if he wished it, but somehow he had 
not seemed to notice her advances — although she knew he had — 
and she felt somewhat piqued because Bob Lee had not seemed 
to take the bait that the other boys so eagerly swallowed. Most 
boys, you know, are never so accommodating as when some pretty 
girl shows them that she wants them to make love to her. She 
was on her mettle now, for never before had she failed; and on 
this particular night, when Bob Lee called her a flirt, she threw 
down the gauntlet to him. She knew that she was a flirt, but she 
did not want to be told about it. The truth often hurts, and none 
of us care to be told about our faults. 

Bob Lee liked Effie Stone in spite of her one great fault. In 
fact, he tried in his heart to excuse her somewhat for being a flirt, 
for he knew it must be a great temptation for a pretty girl to 


86 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


have a number of beaux, each striving to be first in her affections, 
and he felt that in Effie Stoners case — ^like that of many others — 
the temptation had been too strong. 

He made good his promise by going to call on her once a week, 
and with all the wiles of the accomplished coquette did she seek 
to make him fall in love with her, but seemingly to no purpose. 

^^HavenT made love to you yet, have I, Effie ?” he said one night 
as he left her. 

^^Xo, but you will,’’ she fiashed back. In reality she was begin- 
ning to doubt it herself. 

The third time he called after that she did not try to make him 
make love to her. She seemed to have given it up as a bad job. 
She was rather quiet, and after the conversation had seemed to 
drag for a few minutes she abruptly asked: 

^‘Bob, why do you hate flirts so?” 

'^Can I answer you plainly and not hurt your feelings?” he 
asked in reply. 

^^Yes, I have often wondered why,” she said. 

^^Because,” he answered, ^^to be a successful flirt, a girl must of 
necessity be a success in telling something that is not true and in 
making the boy believe it; and, of all things, a girl who does not 
tell the truth, it seems to me, is about the worst. Conscious of 
his own shortcomings, every true boy looks for something better 
from a girl, and what a disappointment it is to him to find that 
his idol is made of the same kind of clay that he is made of ! It 
ip no excuse for a girl to say that boys love to flirt, too. That’s 
often true, but Two wrongs never yet made a right.’ A boy or 
man expects something better from a girl. Many a man has be- 
come a wreck on Life’s ocean because somewhere in the past some 
flirt had lied to him and caused him to lose his high estimate of 
womankind. A true man acknowledges that he isn’t much at 
best, when compared with a woman, and from a young lady he 
expects purity and goodness — purity of thought and purity of 
speech and goodness in all her actions. To him young ladyhood 
means all that is pure, true, and good. And when some flirt tells 
him something untrue about what is to him a most sacred sub- 
ject — her love — is it any wonder that his idol is shattered and 
that he goes to the other extreme and loses faith in all women? 

87 


THE TEXAN 


Every girl owes it to her sex to keep up the standard and the high 
estimate that men hold of womankind, and she canT afford to 
lower it by flirting. True, she gains a little temporary pleasure 
and admiration, but just think what she loses. The great trouble 
with most girls is that they donT think. If they did, many a girl 
who flirts would never do so again. No girl can afford to be a flirt, 
and especially a Southern girl can’t afford to be; for, although 
you are a Northern girl, you have lived here long enough, Effie, 
to know what a high estimate the men and boys of the South have 
of womankind.” He stopped and looked directly at Effie. The 
tears were flowing freely down her cheeks. 

^^Bob,” she slowly said, ‘‘I never thought of flirting in that light 
before. Hereafter I’ll be true to myself and true to my sex.” 

No one ever heard of Effie Stone flirting after that. The con- 
queror was conquered, and it was a natural consequence that she 
fell in love with Bob Lee. No girl or woman admires long a man 
that she can boss, but every girl and every woman can’t keep from 
admiring any man with a character strong enough to control him- 
self. When God made man and woman. He tuned woman’s char- 
acter to a higher and sweeter key than He did that of man, but, 
as if to even matters up, physically. He made man the stronger; 
woman He made the dependent creature. Woman knows this. 
She feels dependent in her inmost being, and not long will she 
admire the man who reverses God’s arrangement. But she admires 
a man who is a man — one whom she can look up to and on whom 
she can depend. 


8S 


CHAPTER XVI. 


^‘That’s a lie ! Ijead the horse out from under him.” 

The speaker was Mr. A. L. Shropshire, a Northern man from 
Massachusetts. The man spoken to last grabbed the horse^s bridle 
and did as he was bid, leaving a struggling negro hanging in the 
air, surrounded by four white men, who, with angry and deter- 
mined faces, stood there watching the negro die. The negro’s 
hands had been tied behind his back and his pleadings for mercy 
had been cut short. No black cap hid his face and his eyeballs 
seemed like they would burst from his head, while the twitchings 
of his face and the quiverings of his body were terrible to see. 

‘‘Hanging or burning is the only way to stop such things,” said 
Mr. Shropshire, and no one replied, but all stood silent in the 
presence of death, for the efforts of the hanging negro were grow- 
ing less and less now — he was almost dead. 

With their horses on a dead run, there suddenly appeared in 
sight two men riding like very demons. They were white men, 
as the men who had just hung the negro discovered, but no telling 
who, and they cocked their guns and prepared to fight, if neces- 
sary. 

“Bob Lee and Jeff Bullington,” Mr. Shropshire whispered to 
the other three, as the horsemen - came closer and he recognized 
them. 

“What does this mean, Mr. Shropshire?” demanded Bob Lee. 
“My God ! it’s Jerry.” Almost quicker than thought he jerked 
out his knife and cut the rope and the body of the senseless negro 
fell heavily to the ground. 

“I’ll kill you for that !” shouted the enraged Mr. Shropshire, and 
he raised his gun to put his threat into execution. 

“No, you won’t. Drop her !” and Mr. Shropshire looked into the 
barrel of an ugly looking sixshooter in the hands of Jeff Bulling- 
ton, and he hesitated. 

“Drop her!” came the command the second time, and Mr. 
Shropshire knew that he dared not hesitate anotlier instant, so 
he dropped his gun on the ground. The eyes behind the sixshooter 
quickly took in Mr. Shropshire’s companions, to see what they 

89 


THE TEXAN 


would do. But none of them took up the quarrel, for each knew 
that to do meant death to somebody. 

^T’m with you, Bob, right or wrong,^^ Jeff quietly said, and 
everybody present knew that he would back up that statement with 
his life if it became necessary. 

With another slash Bob had cut the rope around Jerry’s neck 
and the negro showed some signs of returning consciousness. 

don’t understand you. Bob Lee ; what do you mean by a trick 
like this? Everybody knows that several years ago you were the 
leader of that crowd that whipped Zeke Conners and ran him off, 
when he insulted my daughter. What do you mean by interfer- 
ing with us for hanging Jerry for murdering poor little Emma 
Boatright ?” 

“Zeke Conners was guilty and needed whipping, and Jerry is 
not guilty and doesn’t need hanging,” was the laconic answer. 

“But Jerry is guilty and he did murder little Emma Boatright. 
Didn’t we catch him there where we found her body? I tell you, 
he was right there, stooping over her body, when the murder was 
discovered, and all that cock and bull story about hearing her call 
for help and going to her assistance and running another negro 
away is all stuff. You ought to be hanged yourself for inter- 
fering with us.” And the thoroughly enraged Mr. Shropshire 
shook his finger in Bob Lee’s face. 

“Men,” said Bob Lee, addressing Mr. Shropshire’s companions, 
“Mr. Shropshire does me an injustice. If I thought that Jerry 
did that, I’d help you hang him instead of keeping you from it; 
but as I don’t believe it, I’d fight you all before I’d let you do it. 
Jerry has been working in my father’s home for years and I’ve 
always found him all right, even if he is a negro, and I know that 
Jerry isn’t guilty. If he is” — and he raised his hand towards 
Heaven — “if he is,” he repeated, “and the law doesn’t hang him. 
I’ll promise you here and now that I’ll help you do it.” 

The negro had regained consciousness by this time, and being 
too weak to rise, he lay on the ground listening to this heated 
• controversy. 

^TBefo’ God, Mistah Bob, I didn’t do that,” he groaned. “I 
heard a child a-crying fo’ help, and I run just as fast as I could, 
an’ I saw a negro man a-choking a white child, an’ I hollered at 


90 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


him to stop, an^ just befo’ I got there he hit her in the head with 
a bar of iron an’ ran away, an’ I follered him for a piece. I never 
had nothing to fight with nohow, so I come back to see if he had 
killed the child, an’ I was a-looking to see, when I saw these men 
come a-rushing up, an’ all at once I thought that they would 
think that it was me that killed her, an’ I started to run, too, an’ 
they got me an’ hung me. But, befo’ God, Mistah Bob, I didn’t 
do it.” 

‘^Did you know who the negro was who ran off when you came ?” 

^^Yes, Mistah Bob, I’s almost shore that I knows him, but I 
might a been mistaken, an’ I don’t wants to do nobody no harm, 
but if you’ll lean down here I’ll tell you who I’m almost shore 
it was.” 

Bob Lee leaned down, and the negro whispered something in 
his ear. 

‘^Men,” he said, believe that Jerry has told the truth, and I 
think that there will be a way of finding out for sure. Jeff and 
I did not hear of the trouble for a while after it happened. We 
were in the store together when the news came and had our ponies 
saddled and standing outside, in front, ready for a ride. Some- 
body rushed in and said that Jerry had murdered little Emma' 
Boatright^ — that they had caught him in the very act — and that 
a mob had taken him to the woods to hang him. Jeff grabbed the 
pistol that his boss keeps in the store and we jumped on our horses 
and came. If Jerry was guilty I intended to help hang him, but 
if he was innocent I intended to fight for him to the last. We 
ran by Mr. Boatright’s to find out which way the mob had gone. 
Mrs. Talbot, who happened to be out in the yard, said that Emma 
wasn’t dead, but was only badly stunned by the blow and was 
slowly regaining consciousness; that she kept repeating, ^Help me, 
Jerry; help me, Jerry.’ Poor child! I guess that was the last 
thing she had said before she was stunned by the cruel blow. If 
she ever returns to consciousness we will know whether Jerr}^ is 
guilty or not.” 

Jerry always had been a truthful, upright negro. The white 
folks liked him, and I think that almost everyone in town breathed 
a sigh of relief when little Emma Boatright regained conscious- 
ness and told how a negro named ^^Crazy Jim” had attacked and 


91 


THE TEXAH 


tried to kill her, and how Jerry was coming to her assistance when 
‘‘Crazy Jim'"’ saw him and ran away. Be it said to the credit of 
Mr. Shropshire and his three companions that they did everything 
for Jerry that men could do to in some way atone for their treat- 
ment of him, and, of course, Mr. Shropshire made the amende 
honorable to Bob Lee also. 

The negro is the greatest problem of the South. Of an inferior 
race, and, yet, a liberated race of slaves, still -living among his 
former masters and to a great degree dependent on them, to them 
and their descendants it becomes a very hard question to solve, 
how to treat the negro* exactly right. The Southern white man 
knows the negro thoroughly. He knows the necessity of keeping 
him in his place and making him do right. On the other hand, 
he recognizes the fact that the negro is of an . inferior and de- 
pendent race and he feels the force of that lofty. Heaven-born, 
moral obligation in the heart of every man who is a man — that 
obligation which will make him do more than right when dealing 
with a mental and moral inferior, especially if that inferior is in 
any way dependent upon him. 

The negro is a peculiar creature, any way you take him, and his 
ideas about things are often laughable. All negroes believe in 
“hants” and ghosts, and to get a negro to go through a graveyard 
at night is almost impossible. If he goes at all, he will whistle 
all the way, but woe betide him if he ever looks behind him — ^he 
will see a ghost sure, and the only reason he won’t get out of that 
graveyard faster is because he can’t fly. 

Nearly all the white boys and girls who were reared during the 
war, and right after it, have imbibed more or less of the negro’s 
superstition and belief in signs. Their ideas to-day are more or 
less impregnated with what the negroes have said to them when 
they were children. 

Bob Lee likes the old negroes. He recognizes that they are all 
that is left to represent a people which, with all their faults, had 
many good qualities. They are the representatives of a people 
and of a decaying race whose children will never be what their 
fathers and mothers were. 

Bob Lee likes to joke with the old negroes and they love to 
joke with him. The other day Old Mike said to him, “Mistah 

92 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


Bob, I went to Austin last week and I saw the Governor, and he 
spoke to me, too.” 

“ThaFs good, Uncle Mike,” Bob answered; ^‘and what did the 
Governor have to say to your” 

Uncle Mike grinned from ear to ear as he replied, “I met the 
Governor as I was going down the sidewalk, and he said, Uit out 
of my way, nigger.^ ” 

A negro nearly always has his own way of doing things, too. 
Not long since, a love-sick swain, over on the ^‘Eidge,” told his 
dusky sweetheart that he would kill himself if she didn’t marry 
him right then. She didn’t believe it until he jerked out a bottle 
and emptied the contents down his throat and told her that he 
would soon be dead, for he had just swallowed a dose of ^hough 
on rats.” 0, how sick he did get all at once until that dusky 
damsel hung about his neck and agreed to marry him at once. 
He never told her any better, either, until they were married, and 
then he told her that that dose of ‘hough on rats” he took was 
only sugar. Now nobody but a negro would ever have thought 
of doing that thing that way. “Nothing succeeds like success,” 
they say, and that negro is always telling how he “worked his rab- 
bit’s foot” on that negro girl and made her marry him. 

One of the worst traits in the negro’s character is that one won’t 
tell on another, even though he may know that the other negro 
did wrong. It is characteristic of the race that, unless they are 
mad at each other, they will protect each other in wrongdoing, 
and, if need be, most of them will perjure themselves to protect 
another negro. I remember the case of Bob John’s negro witness. 
Bob was County Attorney and was prosecuting a case of “crap- 
shooting.” The prisoner at the bar was a negro and all the wit- 
nesses were negroes. Bob thought that he had a plain open-and- 
shut case (the facts in the case were beyond question), for the 
negroes had gotten into a scrap over a game of “craps” and Bob’s 
star witness. Mat Napier, got angry and reported the whole thing 
to the Sheriff. It is the delight of a negro’s life, anyway, if he 
falls out with another negro, to get him up in court. Just before 
the case was called Bob took Mat Napier into a side room and Mat 
rehearsed to him everything as it had occurred. Bob came out and 
confidently announced “ready” when the case was called. The 


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THE TEXAH 


defense was ready, too, the jury was selected, and Mat Napier, the 
State’s star witness, was placed on the stand. After a few minor 
questions. Bob said: ^^Mat, tell the jury about the time you and 
the prisoner here and some other negroes had a ^crap’ game, and 
you had a fight.” 

‘‘Never had any ‘crap’ game,” replied Mat. 

“Never had any ‘crap’ game?” repeated the astonished Bob. 
“Why, you black rascal, you, didn’t you just tell me all about it, 
not ten minutes ago, right there in that room yonder?” 

Mat grinned. “Yas, Mistah John, but I was talking then — 
I’s swearin’ now,” and Bob’s “crap” game case came to a sudden 
termination. 

Some people still laugh at Bob Lee about the negro who wished 
to borrow a dime from him. There was a negro named Ike 
Steiner, of about eighteen years of age, who had been bothering 
Bob Lee so much by asking small loans and then forgetting to re- 
turn them, that he had decided to cut him off and not let him 
have any more money. One day Ike came again and took Bob 
outside of the store and said: 

“Mistah Bob, please lend me a dime.” 

Bob was worried because Ike had called him away from his 
business on such a trivial matter, and said: 

“No, Ike, you will have to cut that out.” 

But Ike insisted. He pleaded. He was very anxious to get 
the loan of that dime. Out of patience at last. Bob said : 

“Ike, what do you want a dime for, anyhow?” 

Ike came closer to him. He grew more confidential still. He 
almost whispered as he replied: 

“Mistah Bob, there is a-goin’ to be a baseball game among the 
niggers this evenin’ and I wants to bet on the game.” And he 
added, as if it was a clinching argument, “Please lend me a dime, 
Mistah Bob. If you will. I’ll give you half I wins.” 


94 


CHAPTER XVII. 


Bob Lee was the teacher of a Sunday school class composed of 
girls varying in age from fifteen to twenty, of which he thought 
a great deal. One Sunday they asked him that on the following 
Sunday he would give them a talk instead of having the regular 
lesson, as the regular lesson would be a ^Teview.” He agreed, and 
the next Sunday he said: 

^^Many girls and young ladies make the mistake of believing 
that beauty of person is the thing most to be desired in this world, 
and consequently spend a large part of their time in trying to 
look pretty. IPs all right for a young lady to look pretty. Every 
one likes to see a pretty girl dressed nicely, but when any young 
lady comes to the point where she believes that a pretty face, figure 
or dress are better than a pretty character, she has made a very 
grave mistake. Some girls are born pretty physically, some make 
themselves pretty by The fixings^ they put on. Some poor girls 
never will be pretty, even though they should spend twenty-four 
hours a day trying to make themselves so. As the negroes say, 
‘They were out in the backyard when beauty went by.^ 

“I always feel sorry for an ugly girl, because she always wants 
to be pretty, and yet it is nothing to her discredit that she is 
homely — she is not to blame for it — neither is it to any pretty 
girPs credit that she is pretty. God made her so and she ought 
to thank Him for it like she does for any other blessing, and yet, 
at the same time, she ought to remember that ‘beauty is only skin 
deep’ — ^it’s character that counts. No one is responsible for being 
by nature either ugly or pretty, but every one is responsible for 
what kind of character they have* ‘beauty is as beauty does,’ the 
negroes say. Most of you have doubtless heard of character build- 
ing — for it is a favorite theme with our preachers — but I want to 
change the subject just a little to-day, while I talk to you for a 
few minutes about ‘The Character House.’ 

“Each one of us, whether we wish it or not, are builders. We 
each build a house ‘between the cradle and the grave’ — the char- 
acter house. True, i:vOme die young and never complete the build- 
ing, but most of us complete it, and at different ages in life the 


95 


THE TEXAN 


house that we have built stands out before those who know us as 
our very selves — our character. Some of our character houses will 
never be anything but ugly, unsightly, repulsive ruins — a wasted 
life. Others may not have a good foundation and always stand in 
imminent danger of falling, whenever the hard winds of adver- 
sity blow upon them; while still others, thank God, have their 
foundations deep and true, and on this foundation a beautiful 
building has been erected — a pleasure to the eye, a feast to the 
soul. 0 God, give me a beautiful character house, should be the 
prayer of every heart. 

^^What kind of character house are you building ? Building you 
surely are, but what kind? Each of us, I suppose, has in mind 
a model character house; each of us would like to build a char- 
acter as beautiful as the one we have in mind; and yet, either 
through hereditary taints, poor judgment in choosing associates, 
the natural meanness of poor human nature, or something else, 
we fail to reach our ideal, we fail to complete as beautiful a char- 
acter house as we would like to build. And yet, I believe in lofty 
ideals. You^ll never hit the moon unless you shoot at it; in fact, 
you’ll never hit it if you do, but you’ll come nearer hitting it than 
if you never shoot at it at all. The most important thing about 
a house is its foundation, so let us look well to the foundation of 
our character house. Let us dig away the rubbish, the dirt, and 
the loose rocks, and make it solid — ^let our character rest on the 
solid foundation of Christianity. Let us lay our cornerstones. 
Let us have a right conception of God and Jesus Christ for our 
first cornerstone; an intense love for our parents for our sec- 
ond cornerstone; a proper appreciation of and a love for our nat- 
ural brothers and sisters as our third cornerstone; while an in- 
tense love of mankind in general will make us our fourth corner- 
stone. 

^^What shall we cement our house together with? Love, for it 
is the strongest cement on earth, the most potent known in 
Heaven. What shall we build our character house out of? Not 
wood or stone, for they are not durable enough ; but let us build 
it of pure white marble. I admire white, it stands for purity. 
A white pansy or a white rose appeals to me more and is more 
beautiful to me than any colored one. I have seen almost every 


96 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


building of importance on this continent: the Government build- 
ings at Washington, the skyscrapers of New York, the great cathe- 
dral of Mexico City, the Mormon Temple at Salt Lake City, and 
most all of our State Capitols, but the prettiest building of them 
all is the Congressional Library at Washington, and it is built of 
pure white marble. So let us build our character house of pure 
white marble and cement it in every joint with love. We have laid 
our cornerstones, now let us join them together and complete the 
foundation by putting in between them a love of the pure, the 
beautiful, and the good. 

“Any character built upon the four cornerstones that we have, 
and laid upon this foundation^ must be both beautiful and grand. , 
The owner of a character house built on this foundation will not 
go through the world blind, but will always be looking for some- 
body to do good to. The owner of a character house like that will 
have love at home and scatter happiness abroad. That owner canT 
help but be happy, because he or she will make so many other 
people happy. I haven’t much use for a long-faced Christian, 
anyway. I believe that the truly pious are always happy. I think 
piety is measured sidewise on the face instead of lengthwise. Why 
shouldn’t a Christian be happy ? Believing as I do in the good old 
doctrine of ^Once saved, always saved,’ and consequently having a 
home in Heaven assured, why shouldn’t any one who believes that 
way be happy in this world, even though they get some pretty hard 
thumps down here ? I believe in sunshine — ^both from the sun and 
from the heart. I don’t like to see one of these old long-faced 
Christians sitting around looking like they were sorry that God 
made them. I believe in a sunshiny countenance. Kind words 
give more returns on the investment in the way of happiness than 
anything else. And don’t let us be so stingy with our pleasant 
looks as not to give one to whoever we meet. We owe the world 
a glad face as well as a glad hand. More people in the world 
like honey better than vinegar. Everybody needs encouragement; 
everybody loves to be noticed; why not do our part towards 
making this world better and happier? So, in building your 
character house, be sure to put in plenty of sunshine and 
happiness.’^ 

“But, Mr. Bob,^’ broke in Nell, “you have made your character 


97 


THE TEXAN 


house too beautiful. It is all right, and I wish I had a character 
like you have described. I think that it would be grand ; it would 
be noble to have a character of that kind. But is it possible? 
Can it be done?^^ 

Bob Lee smiled, as he answered the impul&ivo young girl : 

“Yes, Nell, I think that it is possible. It is true that it takes 
hard work to build up a character like that, but there is nothing 
worth having in this world that is not hard to obtain, and I think 
that I know some characters just like that. Try, my dear girl, 
try/^ 


98 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


Soon after this there occurred in the life of Bob Lee two things 
which set him guessing. 

One Saturday night he called on a young lady. It was either 
Merle Bullington, Mattie Wooten, or Effie Stone. Bob Lee won’t 
say which one it was, but it was one of the three. He had always 
thought a good deal of this young lady, but Madame Rumor said 
that she was soon to be married, and Bob Lee believed it. He 
noticed as she came into the parlor that night that she was very 
quiet, and looked serious about something. He began to jolly her 
about her sweetheart that Madame Rumor said that she was to 
marry. With that she seemed to break completely down. She 
burst into tears and said to him: 

^^Bob, I want you to know that I love you better than anyone 
in the world — my father, my mother, or anyone else.” 

Next morning, at Sunday school, she handed him a note, which 
read: ^Tlease forget what I said to you last night. It was all 
a mistake.” 

What do you think of that? What did she mean? Which one 
of those three girls was it, anyway? 

The love affairs of Jeff Bullington were far from satisfactory 
to him. Everybody knew that he was in love with Laura Lee — 
for the poor fellow couldn’t help but show it — but, after the death 
of Seth Rollins, Laura Lee seemed to have determined to be an 
old maid. She took her infatuation for Seth Rollins far too seri- 
ously, and like a great many sentimental girls, she decided to do 
the heroic and the sentimental^ by remaining true to the memory 
of Seth Rollins. Like some persons who enjoy poor health do, I 
think that Laura Lee enjoyed the fact that she was grieving over 
her dead lover. To me it seemed that she was more sentimental 
than sensible. We are all cranks about something, and that was 
the direction of her crankiness. She was a very fine girl, though, 
regardless of this one mistaken idea. There were two things in 
her character, two missions, which I especially admire. One was 
her mission of paper dolls; the other, her mission of fiowers. 

Many and many a child did she make happy by making and 

99 


THE TEXAH 


giving them paper dolls. Flowers she seemed to raise en- 
tirely for her friends. ^lany a sick room has been brightened 
by her sweet bouquets; many a child^s heart did she make happy, 
and many a neglected person was made to feel that somebody 
eared for them. But as for returning the love of Jeff Bulling- 
ton, her heart seemed adamant, while he, poor fellow, kept loving 
her and showing his love — existing on, as it were — until the time 
should come, if ever, when Laura would know her own heart and 
reciprocate his deep devotion. Not that he did not keep company 
with other girls, but it was a very self-evident fact that he loved 
but one. 

Bob and Jeff certainly did have Merle’s and Laura’s curiosity 
aroused about the ^^belle of the picnic.” 

One day Jeff had a holiday, and he and Bob celebrated by going 
to a picnic at Town’s Mill. After they came home they bragged 
and bragged about the ‘’^belle of the picnic” — ^you would have 
thought, both of them were dead in love with her. Merle and 
Laura were on tip-toe with curiosity, but the boys wouldn’t tell 
them a thing, but still kept bragging about the ^Tielle.” 

It was fully a month before the girls found out that she was in 
reality a green country girl who thought that Bob and Jeff were 
town dudes, and wouldn’t have a thing to do with them. The 
reason the boys called her the ^Telle of the picnic” was that nearly 
everybody thought the picnic had been put off, and she was the 
only girl there, and she had to be the ‘Telle of the picnic.” 

It was during this same summer that Jeff, Merle, Bob, Laura, 
and Bess decided to have a bathing party and afterwards have 
supper on the creek. So about five o’clock one evening, with Mrs. 
Bullington and Mrs. Lee for chaperons, the merry party started. 
When near the swimming hole. Bob discovered a lot of nice water- 
melons in a near-by field. 

“Jeff,” said he, “those melons are in old man Eobinson’s field, 
and I know that he won’t care if we get some. He lives in town 
and I will tell him about it and pay him for them when we get 
back to town. Those melons would go fine after our swim.” 

“It’s awful hot. Bob, to pack those melons so far across the 
plowed ground, but I am with you.” 


100 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


The two boys were soon back to the hacks, puffing and blowing, 
but each had a big melon, and they felt repaid. 

The river was soon reached, and the boys went up the river 
among the trees, and donned their bathing suits. The girls went 
down the river, and donned their bathing suits, and, leaving their 
clothing where they had undressed, all were soon enjoying a good 
swim. Mrs. Bullington and Mrs. Lee sat on the bank watching 
the antics of the young people, while together they lived over the 
days when they were young. 

The girls grew tired sooner than the boys, and leaving them 
made their way down the river to where they had left their clothes. 

An old brindle cow had been wandering around seeking what 
she might devour and accidentally discovered the girls’ clothes. 

When the girls came in sight^ there the old brindle cow stood, 
complacently chewing away on their clothes. Merle’s stockings 
had disappeared; the arms and part of the neck of Laura’s dress 
were missing, and Old Brindle was finishing her dainty repast by 
chewing up Bess’s underskirt, but their fusillade of rocks soon 
drove her away. 

^^We can’t possibly keep Mr. JeS and Buddie from finding it 
out,” said Bess. ^^We might keep them from finding out that my 
underskirt is all chewed up and that Miss Merle has no stockings 
on, but they will see that Sister hasn’t any sleeves to her dress, 
and half of her neck is chewed off.” 

^^The neck of her dress, you mean,” corrected Merle. 

^‘Yes, that is what I mean, and it is all too good to keep, any- 
way.” And in due time Bob and Jeff were wise to all that had 
happened; and how they did laugh and tease. 

Bob and Jeff took turns about trying to persuade Laura that a 
supper on the creek was not an appropriate place to wear a low- 
necked and short-sleeved dress, and Bess made Merle blush when 
she said, ^^Miss Merle is getting to be very fashionable now; she 
wears fiesh-colored hose.” 

Bob and Jeff were certainly having their fun out of the girls, 
when they got back to the hacks again. 

^T’ve laughed so much that I must have some watermelon right 
now,” said Bob. 

^^Me, too,” said Jeff; ^^my appetite has been calling for water- 


101 


THE TEXAN 


melon for some time.” And each of the boys grabbed a water- 
melon and took out their knives to cut them open. But the knives 
did not seem to cut well; they wouldn’t go into the melons. The 
melons seemed very tough. 

At Bob’s second attempt to stick his knife into the melon the 
truth dawned on him. He looked at Jelf with a sickly grin and 
saw" that Jeff understood. 

‘T don’t believe that I want any watermelon this evening,” he 
said, and pitched his melon into the river. 

^^Me neither,” said Jeff, as he sent his to join Bob’s. 

The girls w"ould never have knowm what was the matter if it had 
not been for Mrs. Lee. ^^Sold out, sold out,” she said, as she 
pointed her finger at the bo3"s. “Those were pie melons, girls.” 

Bess did not understand what a pie melon was until Mrs. Lee 
told her that some people called them citron melons and some 
called them pie melons. That they looked just like w^atermelons, 
but were very tough, and not good to eat. It was the girls’ time 
to laugh at the boys, and they made good use of their opportimity. 

“Looks like this is an evening of slams on everybody. I move 
that we play slams while supper is cooking,” said Bess, and so it 
was agreed. 

“Let me tell one on Jeff,” said Merle. “Before we came fx) 
Texas he was very much in love with a pretty girl he met in Rich- 
mond. He w"asn’t anything but a boy, but he thought he was des- 
perately in love. I noticed that he seemed to be rather absent- 
minded and moping around for some time. I did not know what 
was the matter until he told me one day in confidence that he had 
written her four letters and she hadn’t replied to any of them, 
and that he was mad and w"as going to break up the correspond- 
ence.” 

“It seems to me that Jeff isn’t the only one who is absent- 
minded,” said Mrs. Bullington. “Let me tell one on Merle. The 
other day I told her to take the bucket and go over to Mrs. Clamp’s 
and get us a bucket of good cistern water, and she picked up the 
vegetable basket instead of the water bucket and didn’t discover 
her mistake until Mrs. Clamp found her industriously trying to 
pump the basket full of water.” 

“It’s my time now^,” said Bob. “Several years ago Mother and 


102 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


Bess paid a visit to Kentucky to see Aunt Ann. By the way. 
Aunt Ann is one of those good old souls who does so much good 
in the world that I guess she forgets most of it. Every Christmas 
for the last three years she has sent Bess a copy of Bunyan’s Til- 
grimes Progresse for a present. But that wasn’t what I started 
to tell you about. One night before Mother and Bess started to 
Kentucky, Bess kept praying and praying — it looked as if she 
would never get through saying her prayers. When she finished 
Mother asked her why it took her so long to say her prayers and 
Bess explained that it would take them three nights to get to Ken- 
tucky; that they would be on the train and that it wouldn’t stand 
still for her to say her prayers, so she Just said them over three 
times.” 

“It’s my time now; I’ll tell you one on Bob,” said Jeff. “The 
other day several of us boys were up town eating cream when a 
Salvation Army lassie walked in and wished to sell us a paper, the 
War Cry, I believe she called it. Bob thought that he would be 
smart, and flippantly said to her, T can’t read.’ TTou don’t de- 
ceive your looks, sir,’ she said. And we made Bob buy every paper 
that she had — thirty-one in all.” 

“My time now,” said Laura, “and I am going to tell you one 
on Jeff. It’s too good to keep. Last Sunday night Jeff took me 
to church. It was a very dark night. We were walking out in 
the middle of the road as we went home, because it was better 
walking there than on the sidewalks. An old town cow had lain 
down out in the road, and it was so dark that we did not see her, 
and — ^you know how tall Jeff is and the long steps he takes — the 
first thing that I knew Jeff had stepped one foot over that old 
cow. She got up under him and left me standing on one side of 
her while he landed in the dust over on the other side.” 

“It’s your time now, Mrs. Lee,” said Merle. 

“All right,” said Mrs. Lee, “I’ll tell you one that I think will 
tickle you. It’s on Laura, and I’ve never told it before. The 
other day I missed Bess.” 

“I thought you said it was on Sister, Mama.” 

“I think it was, Bess.” 

“Wait until she gets through, Bess. I want to hear it,” said Jeff. 

“I missed Bess,” continued Mrs. Lee, “and after a while I found 


103 


THE TEXAN 


her behind the house, on her knees, praying, and out loud, too. 
She was praying fervently that her sister Laura might not be an 
old maid.^^ 

It was hard to tell whose face got the reddest, Bess’s, or Laura’s, 
or Jeff’s. 

^^You’re a daisy, anyway, little Sis,” laughed Bob. 

^^Well, Buddie,” she replied, “didn’t I tell you I just am as I am 
and I can’t be any ammer?” 

But, my reader, I promised to tell you about the other thing that 
set Bob to guessing. It occurred some time in 1883, probably two 
years after the one I told you about a while ago. One night Bob 
Lee called on a young lady. As before, so this time, it was either 
Efhe Stone, Mattie Wooten, or Merle Bullington. They were the 
very best of friends; confidential friends they were, for they told 
each other many of their secrets. She knew that Bob Lee had a 
sweetheart; he had told her so. He knew that she had one, for 
she was to be married on the following night, and he had called 
on her the last night that she would ever be a young lady. 

“Bob,” she said, as she walked into the parlor and took his 
hand in hers, “this is the last night you will ever come to see me; 
let’s get all the happiness out of it we can.” After seating them- 
selves she continued: “Bob, you’ve been a good friend to me. 
I’ll never have another one like you.'” 

Together they talked over their past lives, their pleasures, and 
their friendship, until all too soon the hour grew late. Such 
friendships as theirs had been were rare. For several years they 
had gone together; they had trusted each other; loved each other 
as friends; neither had ever sought to deceive the other in the 
least — the bond of friendship was strong — they were friends, in- 
deed. 

At last the trend of the conversation reverted to a subject over 
which they had often laughed — how people had mistaken their 
friendship for something more serious. All at once she turned to 
Bob and, with a sweet smile, said: 

“Bob, you know that I am to be married to-morrow night; you 
know the man I am to marry; but if you’ll come to-morrow before 
he does I’ll marry you instead.” 

Was she jesting or was she in earnest? 


104 


CHAPTEE XIX. 


At eventide I strolled along in the old Fair Grounds. The sun 
had gone to rest and the afterglow could scarcely be discerned along 
the western sl:y. The shades of night were falling fast; the noisy 
sounds of day were hushed one by one, and the calm of eventide 
was close at hand. ‘^Bob White, I heard a bobwhite call unto 
his mate out in the field upon the hill, and I heard the answering 
call as she whistled back, “All right.’^ I heard the barking of a 
squirrel in an old pecan tree. The last lingering rays of the de- 
parting day were fast fading away. I could scarcely see the white 
mistletoe berries in the trees, and they made me think of the joy- 
ous Christmastide. I saw the giant grapevines with their gnarled 
trunks, and noticed particularly the grapevine swings and thought 
of other days. 

Eight here, among these grand old trees, thought I, Major Penn 
held that great camp meeting; here in nature’s tabernacle. I shut 
my eyes and in fancy I could still hear his deep bass voice singing, 
“We shall know each other better when the mists have rolled away.” 

I strolled along until I came to the old pecan which stands at 
the foot of “Lovers’ Lane.” Here, beneath this old pecan, with 
its spreading branches, many things had happened. Here had 
come the young and old; here the children had played; here had 
lovers plighted their troth; here the old had sat and lived over 
by-gone days. Between here and the river many a person has 
doubly enjoyed the picnic meal in the cool of the giant trees, here, 
where the soft winds blow and the rippling waters flow. 

I looked up “Lovers’ Lane.” The winding road ran in and out 
among the trees. The trees entwined overhead formed such a 
canopy that the sun could scarcely penetrate to kiss away the morn- 
ing’s dews on the ivy vines beneath. I thought perhaps ’tis well 
there had been so many kisses in the “Lovers’ Lane,” that those of 
the sun will scarce be missed. 

Smiling at the thought I went to the nearest spring and, stoop- 
ing down, quenched my thirst. I was tired. Jumping across the 
spring I sat down on the grassy knoll, and taking off my hat I sat 

105 


THE TEXAN 


there looking into the bubbling spring at my feet. I watched it 
bubble, bubble, bubble. It seemed to try to tell me its heart’s 
thoughts. Cold and clear, and beautiful, flowed the rippling 
water along its gravelly bed as it started on its long, long journey 
to the sea. 

I heard the gobble, gobble, gobble of an old turkey at the farm- 
house upon the bluff across the river. I thought of the Thanks- 
giving soon to come and listened to hear him gobble again. Even 
among the trees the doves had ceased their gentle cooing. How 
quiet and serene it was ! I looked down the river, but could 
scarcely see the water lilies in the pond there. But I could see 
the swaying willows as they dipped their branches in the cooling 
stream. Eight there might Corot get a second inspiration to re- 
paint “The Willows.” 

I looked across the river to see did the old cactus with its fruit 
of red still grow on the bluff, but could scarce discern it. The 
sable curtain of night had fallen. All was still. The frogs had 
sung their evening song, the katydids had ceased to chirp, and the 
only sound was the rippling water and the soft rustle of the trees 
as they swung to and fro in the cooling breeze softly blowing from 
the south. A quiet calm had settled over all. I lay back upon my 
grassy bed and through half-closed eyes I watched the stars as they 
came out one by one: I thought of the quiet, peaceful scene around 
me; the beautiful grove; the clear, cold flowing springs; the river 
with its gravelly bed; the water lilies and the willows; the quiet 
calm. Surely, surely, thought I, the great God must have been 
thinking His most beautiful thoughts when He made the old Fair 
Grounds at Georgetown. 

The time is surely coming when this most beautiful of all the 
beauty spots of Georgetown will become the most beautiful park 
in all Texas. I don’t know when it will come, probably about 
1920, but it is surely coming. Nowhere else in Texas is there a 
more beautiful natural park than here. More and more will the 
people of Georgetown realize how beautiful this spot is, and each 
year will it be appreciated more, until the time will come when it 
must and will be a most beautiful park. The possibilities of such 
a beauty spot as this cannot always be overlooked and neglected. 

All parks are made by God and man. Here, unaided, God has 


106 


could not help but see what happened” — page 108 








\ 






A TALE OF TEXAS 


almost completed a most beautiful park, and it leaves just a little 
work by man to make the park complete. The weeds and under- 
growth must be cut away, the grounds fenced in, and a dam put 
down below to make the boating fine. It would be easy to make 
sparkling fountains from the fiowing springs, and artificial lakes 
must be made here and there for the ducks^ geese and beautiful 
white swans, with here and there a waterfall and cataract. Each 
lake must have a grassy island where the fowls may land and pick 
their plumage. 

Easy, too, Twill be to get the grass and fiowers to grow, and on 
the sloping hillside tired mothers will some day sit down to rest, 
while the children play around and watch the gentle squirrels as 
they run about, or jump from tree to tree. The rustic bridge over 
the artificial lake is where the children will congregate most to 
feed the fish as they swim around in the cold, clear lake beneath. 
Here and there will be the cages for the different animals and 
birds, and the cages of the monkeys will be, as they always have 
been, the keenest delight of all for the children. On Sundays the 
park will be crowded with visitors from surrounding towns. 

Out in one of the lakes will be the bandstand. Here sweet 
music will float across the water to the listening multitude which 
lines the banks of the lake on every side. In the middle of this 
lake must be a concealed fountain which, geyser-like, will throw 
the water high into air to cool the atmosphere. One of the springs 
will be dammed up and form a swimming pool, whose ever-chang- 
ing waters will make a cold, clean bath for all who take a plunge. 
Over this pool will be built the natatorium, with its dressing rooms, 
and seats around the pool for those who wish to sit and watch 
the antics of the bathers. 

I can almost hear the shouts of the youngsters now as they go 
tobogganing down the slide in the middle of the pool and strike 
the cold water. The city will own, the park and keep it up by 
means of the concessions. In the eastern part will be ‘^^The Pike,^^ 
or ^^The Midway if you wish to call it so. There will be the 
' circle swing, the Ferris wheel, the restaurant, the cold drink stand, 
the moving picture show, the roller coaster, and the ever-present 
•hobby horse, and other things too numerous to mention. 

The hundreds of electric lights scattered here and there through- 

107 


THE TEXAN 


out the park will turn the night into the day, and here the joyous 
crowds will for a time forget 'their troubles and their sorrows. 

I awoke. The moon was up and shining in my face. It was the 
singing of a mocking bird that woke me. How long I slept I knew 
not. Had I been dreaming? Had I dreamed of a beautiful park, 
or was it a reverie, which I had had of what should be, before I 
lost myself in sleep? How much of it was dream and how much 
reverie, for the life of me I could not then determine. Half con- 
scious, I lay there on my grassy bed and tried to solve the question. 
Half awake, I lay listening to the mocking bird pouring out his 
very soul in song. He was mocking every bird in his song as it 
floated out upon the still night air, and echoed and re-echoed 
through the giant trees. How beautiful the song ! But the mock- 
ing bird had ceased his singing and I wondered why. Eubbing 
my sleepy eyes I rested on my elbow and looked towards the old 
pecan for answer. The answer then was plain. The bird had 
been disturbed, for there under the old pecan stood a buggy. In 
it were a boy and girl. I was not there to pry, but I could not 
help but see what happened. The boy was Bob Lee and the girl 
was — ‘^‘^Hoo ! Hoo said the old gray owl in the tree above my 
head. 

I know not what they said and the old pecan will never tell, for 
it is a wise old tree and repeats not what it hears. I could only 
hear enough to know the subject which they were talking so earn- 
estly about — it was their coming wedding. 

The man in the moon didnT know all they did, for I saw him 
hide his head behind a passing cloud. 

Quickly rising to my feet I cleared my throat in warning and 
looked away, to put them guessing. Stooping down, I quenched 
my thirst and started home. In going home I passed the couple 
by and, in knowing who they were at first, I had not been mis- 
taken, for as I passed them by I saw for sure that Bob Lee was 
the boy and the girl was — looking the other way. 


108 


CHAPTER XX. 


When the Texan was married, in 1883, it was jnst a plain home 
affair, with a few intimate friends as gnests. Neither of the high 
contracting parties liked a church wedding. Both thought that 
a home wedding was the most sacred. Mattie Wooten, Merle 
Bullington, and Effie Stone were there. One of them was the 
bride, the other two were bridesmaids. 

^‘^Did you get scared. Bob asked Jeff Bullington after the cere- 
mony and congratulations were over. 

^‘No, Jeff, I wasnT a bit scared, but my darned coat tail got 
scared. I was just getting along fine until I happened to look 
down at that coat tail, and the blamed thing was just going it. 
Looked like it had a chill the way it was cutting up.'’^ 

Why is it that at a wedding the man always gets frightened 
more than the woman? 

Among the customary showers of rice and good wishes the young 
couple started off on their wedding trip. When their trunks 
reached the depot they were beautifully decorated with white rib- 
bons and old shoes; but when the couple were safely ensconced in 
the drawingroom of the sleeper, and the train was under way, 
they thought they were certainly rid of their tormentors. But 
they were mistaken, and it was rather embarrassing to Bob to find 
a large placard on the outside of their drawingroom door, which 
read: 

^^NOTICE TO PASSENGERS. 

^‘^We are just married and on our honeymoon. Please treat us 
kindly. We were raised pets.” 

^Meff Bullington needs killing,” was Bob’s inward comment, as 
among the titters of the passengers he tore the placard doAvn and 
carried it into the drawingroom to his wife. Who was his wife? 
Who do you suppose that it was? I did not tell you, did I ? Well, 
it was Merle Bullington, of course. Wasn’t she the one that you 
wished him to marry all the time? Well, he did. 

The itinerary of the wedding trip was to go to New Orleans 
by rail; from there to take a steamer and go around Florida up 


109 


THE TEXAN 


to New York; from New York up tlie Hudson to Albany by 
steamer; from Albany to Niagara Falls by rail; from Niagara 
Falls to Toronto, Canada, by steamer, and then through Lake 
Ontario down the St. Lawrence and its rapids to Montreal; from 
there back to New York by rail, and on the return trip to stop 
at Philadelphia and Washington, and after visiting Merle’s Uncle 
Ben and Aunt Jane Davis in Staunton, Virginia, to return the 
most direct route to Texas. I won’t bother you with a recitation 
of details of the wedding trip. I will only say that it was like 
all wedding trips — exceedingly pleasant. It’s such a pity that 
the honeymoon of some people doesn’t extend all through life. 

In Washington, the Texan lost his temper. 

^^Merle,” he said, ^det’s get out of Washington just as quick as 
we can. I have heard it said that it made one more patriotic to 
visit Washington. I don’t believe a word of it. It may make a 
Northern man so; it surely doesn’t a Southerner. Things are too 
one-sided here. They don’t seem to Imow here that the South is 
a part of the Union at all, judging by their statuary, the National 
Museum, etc. — everything is Northern. And the arrogant, sassy 
negroes there are here, with their notions of social equality. It 
takes an awful good white man to be as good as a negro here. 
And that placard that I called your attention to on that sword in 
the National Museum to-day, isn’t that a great thing to be in a 
National Museum, and pretending to be history? It’s a shame 
and a disgrace,” and the blood of the Texan boiled with righteous 
indignation as he thought of it. 

^^What did the placard say, Bob?” 

^Tt said : ^This sword was found in the Alamo in Texas, where 
for several days a small force of Texans withstood a large body 
of Mexicans until they were all killed except eight, who surren- 
dered and were afterwards put to death.’ What a shame that is. 
Merle, to try and belittle the Battle of the Alamo in any such 
style. History records that every man in the Alamo was killed, 
except one coward, who made his escape a night or so before it 
was captured, and it makes my blood boil for some would-be his- 
torian, who wrote that placard, to so misstate the facts.” 

Uncle Ben and Aunt Jane met them at the train when they 
arrived in Staunton, Virginia, and, 0, how glad they were to see 

110 


i 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


Merle and her husband ! Merle had been raised near Staunton, 
everybody had liked her, and how anxious all of her oldtime 
friends were to see her husband ! And how her friends had talked 
and wondered about him ! Everybody knew that she had married 
a native Texan, and just what sort of a being he would be was the 
question. I donT think that any of them thought that he would 
have horns; but would he have any refinement at all? Would he 
wear spurs? Would he wear his pants in his boots, like the pic- 
tures they had seen of the Texas cowboys? Would he have an 
education? Would he be overbearing and brusque and coarse? 
Would he be a rowdy and a tough ? In short, would he have about 
him any marks of a gentleman at all? 

These and similar questions chased themselves through the minds 
and often through the words of Merle^s Virginia friends. Of 
course, they all hoped tor the best, for Merle’s sake, but that the 
Texan that she had married was a cultured Christian gentleman 
had never entered their minds. Their idea of Texas was that it 
was a State where ^^might made right,” a wilderness whose 
main inhabitants were drunken, rowdy, cowboys, who carried 
big sixshooters and a Bowie knife. The trouble was that they 
had not kept up with Texas. That was Texas as a Republic years 
ago — quite different from Texas and the Texans of to-day. 

To put it mildly, Merle’s friends were agreeably disappointed 
when they met the Texan, and one surprise succeeded another as 
from time to time they found out what manner of man he was. 
To tell the truth, the Texan made a decided hit from the very be- 
ginning, and soon became so popular among the Virginians that 
at the annual banquet of the Sons and Daughters of Virginia 
(which was held soon after his arrival) he was asked to give a 
toast on Texas, and was given instructions to make it a long one, 
as his toast was expected to be the main one of the evening. He 
said : 

"Mr. Toastmaster, Ladies and Gentlemen: You have been told, 
and it is true, that it is a common fault of all Texans to brag 
about Texas. I want to apologize for them by saying that they 
can’t help it. We have about four million people in Texas, ladies 
and gentlemen, and there is not one knocker in the bunch. We 
often fall out among ourselves as to which is the best city in 


111 


THE TEXAN 


Texas, or the best county, or the best part of the State, but on one 
thing we are all agreed — ^we all brag on Texas. And if youM 
been to Texas, you would think it no wonder that we do. We are 
entitled to brag, we have something to brag about. You have 
given me, this evening, a subject the grandeur of which is beyond 
the scope of human imagination. We know what Texas was; we 
know what Texas of to-day is; but who will dare draw aside the 
veil to peer into the future and tell what the Texas of the future 
will be? Human imagination halts and falls back upon itself in 
utter impotency at the stupendous task of telling what Texas will 
be in the years that are to come, after the Panama Canal is com- 
pleted. It is hard to speak of Texas except in superlatives, for 
pre-eminent she is already among the States in so many different 
ways, but I will try to confine myself to the positive degree while 
I tell you, as hriefiy as I 'can, wherein Texas is great. Texas is 
great in size. Texas has been well called the Empire State, many 
an empire has not been near so large as she. One who has never 
visited Texas cannot possibly form but a faint conception of her 
size. Conceive, if you can, of a State which, as the crow flies, is 
eight hundred and twenty-five miles wide and seven hundred and 
forty miles long, containing two hundred and seventy-eight thou- 
sand square miles of territory — an area larger than that of New 
York, Pennsylvania, and all the New England States combined. 
To get an idea of her size, turn Texas over, if you will. Let her 
northern boundary be stationary and turn her over from the south. 
What is now South Texas would be somewhere up near British 
Columbia. Turn Texas over to the south and what is now North 
Texas would be in South America. Turn her over to the east and 
West Texas would be over in the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of 
Georgia, turn her over to the west and East Texas would be out 
in the Pacific Ocean. Great is Texas in size. Great is Texas in 
resources. Although they are still in their infancy, you could 
erect an impassable barrier around her and she could produce 
within her own borders almost everything known to the New or 
the Old World. Anything that you can raise anywhere else we can 
raise somewhere in Texas. Eight here, let me say that it is almost 
impossible to make an assertion about Texas that will apply to the 
whole State — she is so big. In one part of Texas cotton predomi- 


112 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


nates; in another, cattle predominates; in another, fruit predomi- 
nates; in another, rice predominates, while in still another, wheat 
predominates. Our coal fields and our oil wells are inexhaustible. 
Texas raises more cattle and more cotton than any State in the 
Union, while in rice she easily comes second. The products of 
Texas bring in four hundred million dollars per year, and agri- 
culture is in its infancy in a great part of the State. Texas is a 
State of unlimited opportunities. In minerals we have almost 
everything and plenty of it. What our undiscovered resources are 
no man can tell. Irrigation has just begun. What Texas could 
produce is a problem so large that none will dare to figure on it. 
Japan, with resources not to be compared to Texas and only half 
the size, takes care of her fifty million people. Texas could easily 
take care of and support one hundred and fifty million. Thousands 
and thousands of acres of low-priced land are waiting only for the 
touch of the farmers hand to bring forth an abundant harvest, 
and they wonT wait long, for already immigrants are coming to 
Texas by the thousands and Texas stands with outstretched hands 
bidding a hearty welcome to every homeseeker of the right kind. 
The opportunities for getting rich in Texas are so many and so 
varied that Texans themselves don’t realize them, yet many a 
father and mother there rejoice as they add acre to acre to their 
landed possessions, investing in what they know will make a 
goodly fortune for their children — and that’s what most parents 
live for, anyway. When 5 ^ou invest money in good agricultural 
land in Texas it is not a question of whether the investment will 
pay, if you keep the land, the only question is whether you will 
make more money by investing in land where you are investing 
or by investing in land somewhere else in Texas. Yes, Texas is 
great in her resources and in her products. 

^^Texas is great in her history. Of all the States, the history of 
Texas is undoubtedly the most heroic. Where will you find an- 
other like it? You may find, perhaps, the counterpart of San 
Jacinto elsewhere; but where, 0 where, in all the world will you 
find anything like the Battle of the Alamo? A place where brave 
men, although given an opportunity to escape, voluntarily laid 
down their lives to the very last man for the sake of their country. 
That is a brand of patriotism the world has never equalled. Ther- 


113 


THE TEXAN 


mopylae is the only place that can at all be compared to it, and 
yet, Thermopylae had her messenger of defeat; the Alamo had 
none/ Search the pages of history through and where will yon 
find where any republic fought her way to independence and be- 
came a sovereign State and then did so unique a thing as to vol- 
untarily surrender her sovereign rights and join a group of States, 
and by that act became only one among many? Texas did that. 
Texas, the Lone Star State, voluntarily furled her Lone Star flag 
and by peaceful treaty became one of the many stars that go to 
make up our nation. Unique also in her history in this, that 
Texas is the only nation that in her Declaration of Independence, 
gave as one of the reasons therefor the failure of the governing 
country to provide for public education. Texas believes in edu- 
cation. Her fifty million dollar school fund is more than any 
State has for its school fund. Yes, Texas is great in her history. 

^Texas is great in her laws. Our Eailroad Commission Law, 
our Homestead Law, and, take notice, please, when I say, our 
law against carrying pistols and other concealed weapons are all 
laws in which Texas has been the pioneer. And they are all laws 
that are considered models and are freely patterned after by the 
older States. It might surprise you to know that it is a felony 
to carry a pistol or sixshooter in Texas, but such is the case. Did 
it ever occur to you that the Texas Capitol, where our laws are 
made, is the second largest building in the United States, and the 
prettiest Capitol building in the United States? True, the New 
York Capitol cost more, but does not equal ours either in beauty 
or size. Yes, Texas is great in her laws. 

^Texas is great in her people. The greatest thing in Texas is 
her people — the Texans, the sons and daughters of the Lone Star 
State. Originally, Texas was settled by a hardy, adventurous 
people. Battling on the one hand with the Mexican invader and 
on the other hand having the savage Indian for an ever-present 
deadly foe, the pioneers of Texas fought for their very existence. 
The sparsely settled condition of the country made concert of 
action such a matter of practical impossibility, that each pioneer, 
of necessity, depended mainly upon himself, and that made brave 
men — it made independent men. My grandfather was one of those 
pioneers who fought the Indians at his home and who fought the 


114 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


Mexicans at the Battle of San Jacinto. I asked him once how 
many Indians did a pioneer in Texas feel that he conld whip. 

^We never figured on that/ was his reply, Vhen necessary we 
fought the Indians, no matter what their numbers.'’ 

^Did the Texans, at the Battle of San Jacinto/ I asked, Teel 
any fear that the Mexicans would overpower them by force of 
numbers T 

^Xo/ he answered, Ve knew that we. had to whip them, and 
we did.’ 

^^Those two replies were characteristic of the feelings of the 
early Texas pioneers. Knowing that they had to fight for their 
very existence, at the same time they felt equal to any emergency, 
no matter what might be the disparagement in numbers. That 
trait in their characters has come down in the character of their 
descendants. That’s why, to-day, every Texan feels capable of tak- 
ing care of himself, no matter where he may be. It is the same 
old spirit of self-confidence and independence. The acts of the 
early Texas pioneers is to-day the richest field there is for the 
novelist. A truthful novel might be well written about almost 
every Texas pioneer. Most all of them were educated men. The 
decisions of the first Supreme Court of Texas are laws to-day. 
They have never been reversed. Those early Texas pioneers were 
of necessity hospitable. Before the days of newspapers, it was with 
genuine pleasure that the homes of Texas were thrown open to 
any friendly traveler, for that traveler brought the news from the 
outside world, and right cordially was he given the glad hand at 
the open door. ^Old Southern hospitality’ was never so beauti- 
fully exemplified as it was in the early days of Texas, and to-day 
you’ll not find a more hospitable, cordial people anywhere than 
are the Texas people. The very name ^Texas’ means Velcome’ or 
Triendly.’ 

^^The Texans of to-day are a friendly people, and they are a con- 
tented people, too. Optimism is in the very air. From all the 
States home-seekers are coming to Texas. Did you ever know 
anybody who voluntarily moved away from Texas? They move 
to Texas from everywhere. It is the rarest thing for anybody to 
move away from Texas. That shows a contented people. Texans 
move about in Texas, but they rarely move away to any other 


115 


THE TEXAN 


State. There are no knockers in Texas. In all my life I have 
only known one. He had moved to Texas from Georgia, and I 
heard him lauding Georgia once and running down Texas. But 
a Texan standing by could not stand it any longer and put to him 
the significant question: 

^Do you know that the road you came to Texas on isn’t fenced ?’ 
believe that every man ought to think that he lives in the* 
best State of the Union, and if he does not think so, let him move. 
To know what Texas really is you’ll have to breathe her air and 
get acquainted with her people well enough to know them as they 
really are. Her broad prairies produce broad men — men with ideas 
of their own, and yet men broad enough to know that others have 
good ideas, too. I have told you, in a .limited time, some of the 
elements that entered in to make Texas great as a sovereign Ee- 
public; I have told you a few of the things that makes the great 
commonwealth of Texas great to-day, but who will dare predict 
what this unrivalled empire will be in the future? Texas is in 
her infancy to-day. Her inhabitants are comparatively few, but 
every one of them is an optimist. Pessimism has no place in 
Texas. Every Texan — either native or adopted — feels his bosom 
swell with honest pride because he is a Texan. Any citizenship 
cannot help but be grand that feels that they are the heirs of the 
ages, the trustees of the future. Great is Texas! Great are her 
opportunities ! Great are her people !” 


116 


CHAPTER XXI. 


The Virginians ^^donT know that the war is over/^ I do not 
mean that they are densely ignorant — far from it — those that are 
cultured are the most cultured people in the United States; but 
I do mean that the bitter feeling engendered during the Civil War 
seems never to have cooled in Virginia. If you happen to be in 
Virginia, and want a proof of this, start a conversation about what- 
ever subject you may wish, and see what a short time it is until 
the subject is changed and the conversation is of the war. And 
this is not strange either, if you’ll think for a minute, for it was 
Virginia, more than any other State, that bore the brunt of the 
marching and countermarching of contending armies and felt most 
the horrors of the war. Many Virginians who are alive to-day, from 
personal experience, know what it means to have one’s home and 
loved ones continually in the midst of contending armies, where 
sometimes foes were victors and sometimes friends. A noted gen- 
eral said, ^^War is hell!” Let it go at that, I’m sure he knew; 
but if any one doubts it, call as witness almost any Virginian who 
lived during the early sixties. 

Stopping at the same hotel in Staunton, Virginia, at which Bob 
and Merle were stopping was a certain Colonel Peeler, a Massa- 
chusetts Yankee. He was large of stature, but a very small man, 
nevertheless. He weighed about 250 pounds, but there was not 
over ten pounds of that manhood. ’He had more cunning little 
ways about him to make a man dislike him than any man you 
ever saw. One of them was his intense hatred of the South and 
everything Southern. He was too small and narrow to see any- 
thing good in the South whatever. With him, everything South- 
ern was mean, low and despicable; everything Northern was per- 
fection. 

Any man has a right to his opinions, no matter what they are, 
but no man has a right to be continually expressing them in the 
insulting way in which he did. It seemed to be his especial de- 
light to get into a crowd of Southern people and give voice to his 
harangue of abuse and vituperation against the South and South- 
ern people. From the way he acted, he seemed to think that if 

117 


THE TEXAN 


one had plenty of gall, sawdust would do for brains. I suppose 
that it must be because the people of Virginia are more polite that 
they take more of that kind of a thing than they do in Texas. In 
Texas a little of that kind of talk goes a long ways, and Colonel 
Peeler would have gotten into trouble about it in Texas long before 
he did in Virginia. 

Colonel Peeler had a mean face and eye and was mortally ugly, 
but he was certainly not two-faced, because if he had any other 
face he certainly would have worn it in preference to the one he 
wore — almost any face would have been an improvement over the 
one he had. He was an incessant talker, and some people ironi- 
cally said he was ^^tongue-tied,^^ but if he was, nobody ever dis- 
covered where nor when his tongue was ‘Tied.^^ His tongue re- 
minded me of a wiggle-tail, because it seemed to be going at both 
ends and in the middle at the same time. 

Colonel Peeler was the best man to confess other people’s sins 
that I ever knew. To do that is the easiest thing in the world, 
anyway. It is about the only thing I know of that people practice 
more than they preach, and Colonel Peeler was a post-graduate 
along that line. 

The first time the Texan heard Colonel Peeler abuse the South 
and Southern people, he made no reply to him, but purposely 
walked away from his vile tongue, and before he heard him again 
he had found out that Colonel Peeler was one of that large class 
of would-be heroes who never smelt gunpowder during the war, 
and his contempt for Colonel Peeler was almost unlimited. The 
next time he saw Colonel Peeler was several days afterwards. He 
was standing in the rotunda of the hotel talking to several Vir- 
ginia gentlemen and Colonel Peeler came up, uninvited, and 
^Tutted” into the conversation as usual. At first no one replied 
to him, all were too gentlemanly; but when he made the assertion 
that half of the Southern soldiers did not have sense enough to 
know what they were fighting for, the hot Southern blood of the 
Texan boiled, and he couldn’t stand it any longer. 

^Tolonel Peeler,” said he, H never heard that assertion made 
about Southern soldiers before; it is not true. I have heard that 
same thing said of the Northern soldier, but I did not think that 
that was true either. Hired, as many of the Northern soldiers 


118 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


were, it could have been nearer true of some of them than of any 
of the soldiers of the South; yet I donT believe that it was true 
even of them. For the soldiers of the war, both North and South, 
I have the profoundest respect. Each fought for the right as he 
saw it, and I have no word of blame for either soldier. More than 
that. Colonel Peeler, the soldiers of the Civil War, the men who 
did the fighting, mutually respect each other to-day. They fought 
each other, and fought to kill, but the soldiers who wore the blue 
and those who wore the gray durihg those trying times, to-day 
mutually respect each other. I know there are exceptions to all 
rules, but in the main my statement is correct, and it takes just 
such men as you are. Colonel Peeler — men who were too cowardly 
to go to the front and fight and never smelt gunpowder during the 
war — it is just such men as you are who misrepresent and abuse 
the men who did their duty and fought for what they thought was 
right. I am proud to state to you. Colonel Peeler, that my father 
was a Confederate colonel, and I am proud to be the son of a 
Confederate colonel, and that I was named by him for the great- 
est general of modem times — ^that grand Christian gentleman. 
General Eobert E. Lee.^’ 

Colonel Peeler had been used to having his own way and his 
own say, and furthermore, the veiled assertion that the Texan had 
made that he. Colonel Peeler, had no right to be called ^^Colonel” 
nettled him intensely. Before replying to the Texan he scowled 
and surveyed from head to toe this blunt Texan who had not been 
at all mealy-mouthed about telling him the truth. The Texan was 
the smaller of the two and rather suspected that it was Colonel 
PeelePs intention to give him a first-class thrashing. Such had 
been the Coloneks first impulse, but there seemed to be something 
in the quiet, determined look on the Texan’s face and something 
about his general make-up that convinced the Colonel that ^^Dis- 
cretion was the better part of valor.” He first hesitated and then 
determined to abandon the making of a fight that he might not 
be able to whip. He determined that he would fight with his 
tongue instead of with his fists, and, with a scowl on his face, he 
almost hissed out to the Texan : 

^Cfes, but you rebels got whipped.” 

That went all over Bob Lee. His fighting blood was up now. 


119 


THE TEXAN 


and advancing close to Colonel Peeler and shaking his finger in 
his face, he said: 

“Mr. Peeler’^ — and Colonel Peeler noticed that he said “Mr.^^ 
Peeler instead of “ColoneF^ Peeler — “by that remark yon mean to 
brag about the only thing that you Yankees can brag about with any 
credit to yourselves. I have heard of you prating about the ^War of 
the Eebellion,^ and calling the Southern soldiers ^rebels^ and brag- 
ging that the North whipped the South. So many times have I heard 
of you doing these things that I am sick and tired of it and I^m 
going to tell you the truth about it. Yes, the North did over- 
power the South. She never did whip her. With sheer force of 
numbers and with unlimited resources at her command, after a 
long five years^ struggle, the North did compel the unprepared 
South to surrender. But that is very little for the North to brag 
about when you consider the facts of the case. The North should 
have compelled the South to surrender in two years at most, con- 
sidering all the advantages she had. And Idl tell you now, 
Mr. Peeler, that the South would never have asked for more than 
two years to whip the North into line had conditions been re- 
versed. When the Confederates literally wore themselves out whip- 
ping the Yankees, and human endurance was at an end, then it 
was, and only then, that the North, with practically the world to 
draw her soldiers from, by sheer force of numbers, overpowered 
a tired and wornout foe. Mr. Peeler, that’s how the North whipped 
the South. More than that, Mr. Peeler, there is not a Southern 
soldier, no, nor a Northern soldier for that matter, but who deep 
in his heart Imows that there would have been a different ending 
to the war if the North and South had been equally matched in 
men and resources. 

“I have no comment to make either on the bravery or the fight- 
ing qualities of the Northern soldier. He was brave and he fought 
well. But where in all the pages of history will you find a match 
for the Confederate soldier? Search where you will and you’ll 
never find his equal as a soldier, and to-day no one holds 
a higher estimate of him as a fighter and as a soldier than the 
Yankee soldiers do who fought against him. Where, in all his- 
tory, can you find where any people surmounted so many diffi- 
culties and accomplished the seemingly impossible so often as did 


120 


A TALE OF'TEXAS 


the unprepared South with the soldiers who wore the gray? No, 
Mr. Peeler, the Confederate soldier never has had his equal as a 
fighting machine, and none know it better and in their hearts will 
acknowledge it quicker than the men who fought against him. 
They know his worth and his ability as a soldier even if you 
do not. 

want to tell you another thing, Mr. Peeler. I have heard 
you say that the South had no great generals and that none of 
them could be compared to General Grant. I want to say to you, 
Mr. Peeler, that General Grant was a great general, but General 
Robert E. Lee was a greater one. As a general I admire General 
Grant, but General Grant never saw the day that he could whip 
General Robert E. Lee, conditions being equal.” 

^^ColoneF* Peeler was beside himself with rage. ‘‘You are a 
liar!” he shouted. But the words were not out of his mouth be- 
fore the clinched fist of the Texan hit his nose with such a savage 
blow that the blood spurted. He fought as best he could to keep 
the Texan away from him, but to no purpose, for the Texan rained 
blow after blow upon him. His left eye was nearly closed and 
blood was running from his nose. Seeing that he was getting the 
worst of it, he reached for his pistol, but the Texan was too quick 
for him and grasped his wrist just in time, and the bullet in- 
tended for the Texan^s heart buried itself in the ceiling. 

“Coward !” hissed the Texan, as with an almost superhuman 
effort he wrenched the pistol from him. 

“Don’t shoot him ! don’t shoot him !” yelled one of the Texan’s 
friends, as he saw the Texan in possession of the weapon. 

“I’m not that big a coward,” the Texan sneered as he handed 
the pistol to his friend, “but he called me a liar, and he’s got to 
swallow it.” And again he started for “Colonel” Peeler. 

But that bully had had enough, the whirlwind thrashing the 
Texan had just given him had completely cowed him. 

“I’ll apologize,” the cowardly puppy whined. 

“All right, Mr. Peeler, I’ll accept your apology,” the Texan said 
to him as “Colonel” Peeler slunk away. “But I will advise you 
not to call a Texan a liar hereafter unless you are hunting trouble.” 


121 


CHAPTER XXII. 


Holding in his hand the package he had just gotten out of the 
express office. Uncle Ben came down the path chuckling to him- 
self. 

“^What does this mean?’^ he asked, as he handed the package to 
Bob to let him read the address. It was addressed to “Merle 
Bullington and Husband.^^ 

“You’ll have to play second fiddle here in Staunton, Bob,” said 
Aunt Jane. “Here you are just Merle Bullington’s husband.” 

Merle spoke up : “Old Effie Stone sent this ; she told me that 
her wedding present hadn’t come, and that she would send it to 
us here. I know that every express messenger between here and 
Texas has laughed about that address. I’m afraid that they don’t 
think that I have much of a husband.” 

“That speech was just like a wife,” laughed jolly Uncle Ben. 
“The quickest way in the world to make a woman mad is to abuse 
her husband. Looks like women think that the right to abuse 
their husbands is one of the perquisites of getting married, but 
they won’t stand for it if anybody else abuses him. Merle’s fight- 
ing Bob’s battles already.” 

“I know Bob is a man all right,” retorted Merle. “Did you not 
hear about him giving Colonel Peeler a thrashing the other day?” 

Uncle Ben replied: “Yes, I did hear something about that. 
Wliat about it, Bob ?” 

“I guess I ought to have been ashamed of myself. Uncle Ben, 
to have gotten into that scrap, but when a question of North and 
South comes up, I just have to say something. We got into a little 
argument, and the first thing I knew he called me a liar, and you 
know that I wasn’t going to take that,” said Bob. 

“You Texans are pretty touchy about anybody calling you a 
liar, aren’t you. Bob ?” 

^^es. Uncle Ben, we are. No Texan will take it, if it is meant. 
And yet it is a common custom among good friends to call each 
other liars in fun. After somebody has told some wonderful yam 
that is hard to believe I have often heard one of the crowd of boys 
jokingly say, ^You’re a liar,’ or ^What a lie,’ or someone would 


122 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


say, ‘What’ll I — what’ll I — what’ll I do/ or oftentimes the whole 
crowd would break into song to the tune of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ and 
sing, ‘It sounds to me, it sounds to me, it sounds to me like a lie; 
it may be so for aught I know, but it sounds to me like a lie.’ 

“Under such circumstances and among friends to be called a 
liar in Texas in that way is not considered offensive in the least; 
on the other hand, it is considered a mark of friendship and good 
fellowship. But you had better laugh when you call a man a liar 
in Texas. If you don’t, you may know one thing for sure, and 
that is he is either going to whip you right then and there, or that 
you are going to whip him. You may be twice as big as he is, 
and he may know that he is going to get whipped, but he is going 
to give you the best he has in the shop. And if you ever find a 
Texan who doesn’t ‘make a rough house’ if somebody calls him a 
liar and means it, you may just know that you have either struck 
an angel walking around in men’s clothes or a very big coward.” 

“I always heard you Texans were scrappers,” said Uncle Ben. 

“Uncle Ben, I suppose you mean that the average Texan is a 
great big, overbearing bully with a big hat and a big sixshooter 
buckled on him, and a Bowie knife in his belt — a man who struts 
around with a chip on his shoulder daring anybody to knock it 
off, and hoping somebody will — a regular ‘bad man from Bitter 
Creek.’ ” 

“Not quite that bad, Bob.” But he winced to think how nearly 
riglit Bob had described his ideas of the average Texan. 

“Lots of people think that^ Uncle Ben, but they are way behind 
the procession; they haven’t kept up with Texas; they are too 
slow; the}^’!! have to hurry or they won’t be in time to go to their 
own funerals. Some of my description might have fitted some 
Texans who lived many years ago, but the Texans of to-day are 
quite a different people. The Texans of to-day are a quiet, peace- 
able people, and they are not out hunting trouble. They are not 
going to impose on anybody else, neither are they going to let 
anybody impose on them. The Texan is an independent ‘critter,’ 
and feels able to take care of himself, but he is not around trying 
to make trouble, and if you treat him right he will treat you right. 
The people of Texas to-day are an upright, cultured, refined 
people, and you will find as fine people in Texas to-day as you will 

123 


THE TEXAH 


find anywhere. Other people’s rights are held just as sacred in 
Texas as they are anywhere. Anybody or any of their property 
is just as safe in Texas as in any State in the Union; and as for 
carrying sixshooters, Uncle Ben, nothing has surprised me more 
on this trip than to find how many more people carry sixshooters 
here in Virginia than in Texas. It might surprise you to know 
that the penalty for carr3dng a sixshooter in Texas is a hundred 
dollar fine and a hundred days in jail. It is the rarest thing in 
Texas for anybody but peace officers to Tote a pistol.’ What in 
the world does a great big, strapping fellow want to carry a six- 
shooter for, anyway? I think that a man who will habitually 
carry a pistol, unless somebody has threatened his life, and he ex- 
pects the threat to be made good, is a coward, unless he is a peace 
officer and may need it. I don’t claim to be brave, but I was born 
and have been reared in Texas and I never ‘^packed a sixshooter’ 
in my life. 

have traveled all over Texas, too, and but twice have I ever 
seen the time when I wanted a sixshooter. One was when a mad 
coyote got after me and the other time was one night when I took 
a neighbor to a near-by town to catch a certain train, and on the 
way back I passed a hackload of bill posters for a circus. After 
I had passed one of them called to me to wait a minute, and got 
out of the hack and came towards the back of my buggy. I think 
he intended to sandbag me, but it was bright moonlight and I saw 
that I did not know him, and ran a bluff on him by squaring 
myself around in my buggy and running my hand in my hip 
pocket like I was going after a pistol. I did not have to tell him 
to stop the second time either. It was a big bluff on my part^ but 
it worked, and I drove off and left him. If it works, a good bluff 
is always better than a poor fight, you know. 

^^The Texans themselves are responsible for a whole lot of the 
wrong notions people have of Texas. Texans know the opinion 
which so many people have of Texans and of Texas, and whenever 
a Texan goes to some other State and strikes a greenhorn who 
thinks that he knows all about Texas and the Texans, and who 
thinks Texans are all green, it is too much of a temptation for 
him, and he usually makes a fool out of that greenhorn by stuffing 
him. The many various and assorted lies which he will tell him 


124 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


about Texas are wonderful. It is fun for the Texan just to see 
how big a fool he can make out of a would-be wise man, but it 
reacts on the State and its people, because that same greenhorn 
will be certain to repeat all those wonderful lies, and he knows 
they are so, too, because a Texas man told him that they were true, 
and ultimately Texas suffers.” 

Aunt Jane narrated some things which she had heard about 
Texas, but Bob told her that not one of them was true. 

‘^Somebody has been greening you about Texas.” 

^^Maybe so. Bob ; but isnT it a fact that they have very change- 
able weather down there?” 

^^Yes, Aunt Jane,” said Bob, ^^thaFs true. Texas can have more 
different kinds of weather in less time than any place. They tell 
a yarn down there about a farmer who was driving a yoke of oxen 
into town and one of them got too hot and died, and he went off 
to get somebody to help him skin it, the weather turned cold, and 
before he got back his other ox froze to death. Well, it is not 
that bad, but our changes are sudden. If you start to church 
there they say that you ought to carry a fan, an overcoat, over- 
shoes and an umbrella — you might need them all before you get 
back. I guess that you have heard of the old lady who said : Tt 
never rains in Texas, but when it does it never stops.^ Of course, 
all those are slanders on Texas weather, but in some parts of the 
State the changes are very sudden. Texas is a great big State, and 
you can hardly say anything about Texas that will apply to the 
whole State. Some people hear of a cyclone or a waterspout, or 
something of that sort, somewhere in Texas and immediately get 
it into their heads that Texas is a State of cyclones and water- 
spouts, never realizing that there is a whole lot of Texas for some- 
thing to happen in. Up Tiere you have to keep dancing around 
all the time to stay in the same State ; it is not so in Texas. Some 
people think that Texas is just a cattle State, with one cattle ranch 
after another. They have big cattle ranches in West Texas, but 
there are lots of Texas children twelve years old who never saw 
a cattle ranch. By the way, it sounds funny to a Texan to hear a 
Californian speak of a ten-acre truck patch as a ranch, when a 
Texan wouldn’t think of saying that he had a ranch unless he had 
over four thousand acres. Some of our ranches have over two 


125 


THE TEXAN 


I' 

hundred thousand acres. One, the Capital S3^ndicate Eanch, had 
three million acres before they sold a part of it. I tell you Texas 
is great in more ways than one.^^ 

‘^^Every Texan I ever saw was always bragging about Texas/^ 
chimed in Aunt Jane. 

The eyes of the Texan twinkled. He had made up his mind 
to have some fun out of Aunt Jane. 

^‘Well, it is better to brag about your State than to always be 
bragging about your kinfolks. Don’t you think so, Aunt Jane?” 

^^Who’s bragging about their kinfolks?” 

^‘Why, all of you Virginians do that. You Virginians don’t 
think that anybody can be anybody unless they can trace their 
ancestr3^ back to Adam. With you Virginians individuality is 
nothing, ancestry everything. It doesn’t matter what you are in 
Virginia, the question is what was your grandfather or your grand- 
mother ? And were they F. F. V.’s ? and if not, you can’t possibly 
be anything, no matter how fine a character you may really be. 
Texas is composed of individuals; Virginia is composed of fami- 
lies. In Texas ^every tub stands on its own bottom’; in Virginia, 
the main question is what sort of a tub did your grandfather or 
grandmother have?” 

^^Blood will tell, blood will tell,” said Aunt Jane emphatically. 

^^Yes, Aunt Jane, but it tells too much sometimes. Now, you 
know if a fellow like me has a grandfather who went to the peni- 
tentiary for stealing a yearling he doesn’t like to brag on his 
grandfather too much, does he?” 

Aunt Jane looked horrified. She pulled down her glasses and 
surveyed Bob Lee from head to foot. Could it be possible that 
Merle Bullington, whose family was one of the F. F. V.’s, had 
so lowered the name as to marry a man whose grandfather had 
been a common cow thief? Bob looked serious, too. Everybody 
looked serious but Merle. 

‘^^Bob Lee, 5^011 know that’s not so. You know that your grand- 
father never stole anybody’s yearling,” she said. 

never said that he did,” he laughingly replied, ^Tut if he had 
I wouldn’t want to brag about it, would I ?” 

"Let’s compromise. Aunt Jane,” he cried; "I’ll be good. You 
think ancestry is everything, I think it’s the individual ; let’s com- 


126 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


promise; 111 meet you half way and say we are both right, and 
yet both of ns are wrong, for I believe it nearly always takes both 
to make a well-rounded character.” 

^T expect that we Virginians do magnify ancestry a little too 
much,” was Aunt Janets concession. She was not satisfied yet, 
so she had to sa)^, ^^Bob, you Texans think that you are mighty 
smart, but are not half as smart as you think. I can tell a Texan 
just as far as I can hear him talk; they are always saying, %e 
alF and ^you all,’ ” and Aunt Jane was very much amused. 

^^Those are just little localisms of Texas, Aunt Jane. Nearly 
every State has its localisms, and I like them myself. I can tell 
a Virginian just as far as I can hear them talk, too; they are al- 
ways saying ^gyr? for ^girP and ^gyarden’ for ^garden.’ The other 
day I went into a store here to buy a pair of hose and asked the 
clerk whether the kind he showed me was two bits or four bits a 
pair, and he didn’t know what I meant. Aunt Jane, the ignorance 
of some of the F. F. V. people is dense! It is deplorable. Aunt 
J ane ; it is shocking ! Why don’t they move to Texas and take 
on a little learning and polish?” 

^^Bob is bound to have his fun, Aunt Jane,” said Merle in the 
way of an apolog}^ ^^He teases everybody except his father and 
mother; and Jeff is a big tease, too. What those two don’t study 
up in Texas to have fun out of isn’t worth studying up. 

^‘There is an old Irishman in Texas who kept getting drunk 
and making himself a perfect nuisance generally. Not long ago 
he got dead drunk again as usual, and Bob and Jeff concluded 
that they would have some fun out of him. They bought him a 
cheap coffin and put him in it, and when old Mike came to con- 
sciousness he was in his coffin. I tell you that Irishman quit that 
coffin in a hurry, but he hasn’t been drunk since. 

^^One of the meanest tricks they played was on a negro man 
named Isaiah. Isaiah is an old bachelor, and quite a lady’s man 
among his people. He is about forty years old, and when he gets 
out among the negroes with some sixteen-year-old girls around him 
he certainly illustrates that old proverb, which says, ^There’s no 
fool like an old fool.’ Isaiah loves all the girls between the ages 
of eight and eighty, and he’ll tell every one of them about it, too. 
He weighs about two hundred and, like most negroes, perspires 

127 


THE TEXAN 


freely. He is a perfect dude — as much as he knows how to be. 
Nearly everybody laughs at Isaiah because he shows so plainly 
how hard he is trying to get married. Last summer they had a 
negro camp meeting near Florence, some twenty miles away from 
Georgetown, and Isaiah concluded that he would go to that meet- 
ing — that his chances to get married there might be better than 
they were at home. In this Isaiah was wise, but he showed poor 
judgment when he went to the drug store to get him some hair oil. 
He wanted to smell sweet to the dark-skinned damsels of Flor- 
ence. 

^Mistah Jeff,’ he said, diasn’t you got some hair oil for me? 
Fse going to the camp meeting over to Florence.’ 

“Bob happened to be at the store, and when Jeff winked at him 
and said, ^Why, certainly, Isaiah, I’ll fix you up,’ Bob knew that 
something was going to happen. 

“Jeff did not have any hair oil, but got Isaiah a bottle of 
chrysylic ointment and, tearing off the wrapper, gave the ointment 
to Isaiah. Everybody knows that chrysylic ointment is used to kill 
worms in cattle, and as a smeller Limburger cheese is the only 
thing known that is even in the same class with it. 

“ Tut plenty of it on your hair’ was Jeff’s parting injunction. 

“Isaiah did put plenty of it on — ^he went to that camp meeting 
and he smelt and perspired, and the more he perspired the worse 
he smelt. 

“In about a week he came home and went to the store one 
morning. 

“ ‘^Mistah Jeff,’ he said in confidence, ^are you shore that you 
got me the right hair oil?’ 

“ ^Why, certainly ; was there anything the matter with it ?’ 

“ ‘No, I reckons not, Mistah Jeff,’ he said, ‘but it shore did 
smell to me like that dinged old worm medicine,’ and Jeff could 
not hold in any longer, and now Isaiah gets his hair oil some- 
where else.” 

“What is your little sister named. Bob ?” asked Aunt Jane. 

“Bessie, but we call her Bess for short. When Bess was small 
Mother had a spell of sickness, and was in bed several days, and 
Bess thought that she was going to die. One day during Mother’s 
illness she came up to me, her eyes all red from crying, and in a 


128 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


solemn voice said: ^Buddie, if Mother dies, I donT know who 
we can get to cook for ns/ 

‘‘She got away with me pretty badly not long ago. She likes 
bananas, and I do not eat them at all. Not long ago I had a 
birthday and, as she nsnaily does, she came to me to get a quarter 
with which to buy me a birthday present. Shortly afterwards she 
came back wagging a big sack. ‘Here is your birthday gift, Bud- 
die,^ she said. I looked to see what it was. It was a quarter’s 
worth of bananas. Bess fell heir to the bananas. 

“We have an old black negro grandma working in my father’s 
home and, like a great many old negroes, she is very scarry or 
makes out that she is. Old Aunt Kate does the washing, and 
comes in for the clothes Monday morning just as regular as clock 
work. She and Bess are very fond of each other, but Bess will 
tease her sometimes and the old negro rather seems to enjoy it. 
Mother keeps all the dirty clothes in a big clothes basket with a 
lid on it, and not long ago Bess concluded to give Aunt Kate a 
surprise party. So early one Monday morning Bess got into the 
clothes basket among the dirty clothes, and when Aunt Kate came 
moseying in and lifted the lid of the basket, like a veritable jack- 
in-the-box Bess popped up and said, ‘Boo !’ and if Aunt Kate could 
have turned white she would have done it. 

“Bess has a temper, too. When she was considerably younger 
she got fighting mad at her Mother one day, but of course she was 
afraid to fight her, so she proposed, ‘Mama, let’s play like you are 
a tack and I am a hammer,’ but Mother did not care to play that 
new game just then. 

“Jefi used to tease her a great deal and she got so that she was 
always expecting him to do so. One day he said, ‘Bess, your father 
is a gentleman,’ and he looked serious. She came back at him 
with, ‘No, my Father ain’t no dentlemen; if my Father is a den- 
tlemen, you’se a nigger.’ 

“We laugh at Bess every once in a while now about the time 
that Mother sent her over to a neighbor to get a paper called ‘The 
Literary Companion.’ Bess was afraid she would forget the name, 
and she kept repeating over to herself, ‘Literary Companion,’ ‘Lit- 
erary Companion,’ but, unfortunately for her, she stumped her 
toe and fell down, which so fiustered her that instead of asking 


129 


THE TEXAH 


for the ^Literary Companion^ she asked for ^The little rag and 
the pan/ ” 

‘^Mother fixed her not long ago. Bess concluded that she did 
not wish to go to Sunday school, so one Sunday she asked to stay 
at home, but did not give any reason for wishing to stay.. Mother 
thought she was ill and made her take calomel. Bess told me 
confidentially that if she either had to go to Sunday school or take 
calomel, she believed that she would go to Sunday school. 

The Texan stopped abruptly and turned to Uncle Ben and said : 

‘^Uncle Ben, why don’t you move to Texas? You are like a 
good many others in the old States who are slaving their lives out 
and barely making a living, and sooner or later will die and leave 
their children to follow right along in their footsteps. Why don’t 
you move to Texas and give your children a chance? Good land 
can be bought in Texas for ten or fifteen dollars an acre that 
would raise just as much as a hundred or a hundred and fifty 
dollars an acre land of the old States, and our land is growing 
in value all the time, while the land in the old States has almost 
reached its maximum price. The only reason that I can assign 
why thousands of people don’t emigrate to Texas and buy some 
of our cheap lands on which to make a living and leave to their 
children when they die is they don’t know how many grand oppor- 
tunities Texas has, and they don’t know what Texans are. They 
seem to have gotten into a rut and haven’t enough get-up and get 
about them to get out of it. Most parents have a desire to leave 
a competency for their children. Many of them spend their whole 
lives to do that, and I don’t believe there is any surer way in the 
world to do that than to buy good agricultural land in Texas, and 
stay with it. Our lands won’t stay cheap long, for when the Pan- 
ama Canal is completed, if not before, there will be such a stam- 
pede from the old States to Texas — n stampede the like of which 
has never been in the history of any country. If you go down 
there and see what we raise you’ll wonder why such land can be 
bought so cheap. The people that move to Texas and try it are 
satisfied, because they don’t move away from Texas. There is a 
less per cent of people that move away from Texas than from any 
State in the Union. And we don’t have to tear our shirts to make 
a living in Texas, either. A Wisconsin schoolma’am once asked 


130 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


me why it was that the people of Texas never seemed to be in a 
hurry, while in Wisconsin everybody came and went in a hurry. 
My answer was that there were two reasons. One was that the 
Texas climate was a great deal warmer than that of Wisconsin, 
and the people got more or less lazy and didnT have to move 
around fast to keep from freezing, but that the main reason was 
that competition was so acute in thickly settled States like Wis- 
consin that people had to move around lively to make a living; 
while in a sparsely-settled State like Texas anybody could gain 
a livelihood without much trouble. She saw the point and you’ll 
see the point, too. Uncle Ben, if you’ll take a trip to Texas and 
see things as they really are. There are opportunities that you 
have never dreamed of there, and the more you see of Texans the 
better you’ll like them.” 

But Aunt Jane hadn’t forgotten that Bob had laughed at her 
about Virginia and Virginians, and she said: 

^^Bob, honestly, are the Texas people a cultured people?” 

‘^Yes, Aunt Jane, they are. You’d be surprised to know how 
much culture there is among them. However, to be honest with 
you. Aunt Jane, I will say that I believe that the cultured Virginia 
people are the most cultured people in the United States. It is 
not possible for a new State like Texas to be quite as cultured 
as the Virginians are, but you will find as much culture in Texas 
as you will find almost anywhere. Mother was a Virginian, you 
know, and I’m a great admirer of the Virginians. If you will 
take the culture and the high ideals of the Virginians and add to 
it the broad, independent, friendly spirit of the Texans, with their 
high ideals of honor, honesty and integrity, I firmly believe that 
the product of a union like that ought to be the grandest char- 
acter imaginable. And I sometimes practice what I preach, too, 
Aunt Jane, for I married a Virginia girl. ^Blood will tell, Aunt 
J ane, blood will tell.’ ” 


131 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


In Staunton there was an organization called the ^^Sons of Vet- 
erans/^ composed entirely of Northern men who were sons of those 
who fought for the North during the Civil War — a junior C. A. R., 
as it were. Many of its members had heard Bob Lee’s toast on 
Texas and were so pleased with it that an' invitation was extended 
him to deliver a speech to the “Sons of Veterans.” He was re- 
quested to speak on the subject, “The Negro Question as Seen by 
a Southern Man.” 

After thinking over the matter he accepted the invitation, and 
said: 

“Mr. President and Gentlemen: When your committee waited 
on me and I was asked to give you my views on the negro ques- 
tion, my first feeling was one of surprise, my next was one of 
pleasure, for I consider it quite a compliment that I, who am a 
Southern man, should be asked to express my views before you. 
But tramping close upon the heels of my feeling of pleasure came 
one of hesitation — yes, hesitation and fear, not physical fear, but 
that higher fear — the fear of a man who, knowing himself and 
knowing his pronounced opinions upon a subject, fears by giving 
voice to them he may give ofiense to his host where none was 
intended. 

“ ^Gentlemen of the committee,’ I said, This is a very high 
honor you do me to ask me to address you on such a subject. I 
fully appreciate it, and yet it places me in rather an embarrassing 
position, because I know how very different my views are on that 
subject from anyone in your organization, hut if you really want 
them, and I give them to you straight, I fear that I may hurt 
somebodjr’s feelings and be justly criticized for accepting your hos- 
pitality and your kindness, and then saying something to you which 
you would not wish to hear, and for that reason, and for no other, 
I feel that I ought not to accept your kind invitation.’ 

“ ^You’re wrong,’ said the chairman of your committee, Ve 
don’t expect to agree with you on the subject, and we will promise 
neither to take offense nor let our feelings be hurt. We have heard 


132 


A T ALE OF TEXAS 

the question discussed on one side only so long that we really feel 
that we want to hear the other side/ 

^On those conditions ITl accept/ I said. ' 

^^Gentlemen this is not my apology, for I owe you none; but 
this is my explanation of my being here and saying what I am 
going to say, but I warn you that I hit straight from the shoulder 
and usually shoot with a rifle. 

^^Xow, my friends, we understand each other. You have prom- 
ised not to take offense; I promise you I will try not to offend 
anyone. If I do, I should sincerely regret it. For fear that you 
may think I have some pet theory to exploit in regard to the 
negro — some hard-ridden hobby — I want to say, in the beginning, 
that I have none. If you were to ask me what is to be the future 
of the negro race I should answer you candidly that I do not know. 
This might seem to you a pitiable confession of ignorance of the 
subject, and yet were I to turn the gun the other way and ask 
you the same question you could but give me the same answer. 
Nobody knows what is to be the future of the negro — it is one of 
the unsolved problems. The arguments about him — pro and con — 
grew very strenuous during the early sixties, and here twenty years 
afterwards the question is still unsettled. The best that any of 
us can do is to discuss the negro as he is, and, as his friends, try 
and make the best future possible for him. To do this, we must 
forget, as far as possible, the hard feelings naturally engendered 
by the Civil War — our fathers on both sides fought for the right 
as they saw it. The issue of whether slavery was right was settled 
by the arbitrament of the sword; and, whether settled wrong or 
right, it was settled. Let it stay settled; it would ill become me 
to discuss it here. 

^^The result of the war, of course, did not suit me, and yet I 
want to say something to you that you may consider a startling 
acknowledgment. I believe that the result of the war was the best 
thing that ever happened to the Southern white man. ^Why T you 
ask. Because had it been settled differently and the South had 
retained her slaves, the boys of the South would have grown up 
a lazy, dependent set of men, ill-fitted to combat the stern realities 
of life. As it is, the Southern boy has grown up to be a man 


133 


THE TEXAN 


who, conscious of his own strength, defies the efforts of the world 
to keep him down. 

^Tf the result of the war was really a blessing in disguise to the 
white man of the South (and from the bottom of my heart I be- 
lieve that it was), believe me I am equally as sincere when I say 
that it was the worst thing that could have happened to the negro. 
Why ? Because the negro of to-day, in the South, is not what the 
negro of ante-bellum days was — ^he is not his equal in any respect. 
I know a number of ante-bellum negroes who are still living, and 
I know that one of them, either male or female, is worth a dozen 
negroes born since the war. The present generation does not com- 
pare with the ante-bellum negro in any respect. 

“As a result of the war, and in revenge, and to further humil- 
iate a fallen foe, you men of the North gave the negro the fran- 
chise — ^the right to vote. You were so angry that you said by 5 "our 
actions that the negro is the equal of the white man, 0 my God ! 
What a mistake ! What an injustice ; both to the white man and 
to the negro! That was the meanest thing that the North ever 
did I That was the worst mistake that the North ever made ! If 
you had not done that, the negro question would have been settled 
long ago, for the question would have been taken out of politics 
and his friends in the North and South would long ago have 
mapped out for him the road that it was best for the negro to go. 
As it is, he is the football of the politicians — the political factor, 
the balance of power. 

“Take him out of politics and the negro question will soon be 
settled. Eliminate him as a political factor, and it will be better 
for him, for it will place his future in the hands of his true 
friends, instead of in the hands of designing politicians. AWiy 
canT you, men of the North, be patriots instead of politicians? 
You’re afraid to take the negro out of politics, because you want 
and think you must have his vote. Let me whisper something in 
your ear. Listen. There are many men in the South who at heart 
believe in many of the principles of the Eepublican party, but who 
alwaj^s vote the Democratic ticket. Why? Because they are so 
thoroughly disgusted with the way the Eepublicans cater to the 
negro and the negro vote. You’ll never get their vote as long as 
you do. Eliminate the negro as a political factor and you’d be 


134 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


surprised to know how many Republican votes would he gained 
in the South. 

“A white man in the South, unless he be a politician, can hardly 
afford to be a Republican, because he can’t afford to lose his own 
self-respect, as well as the respect of his neighbors by associating 
in a Republican convention with negroes and treating them as his 
equals. The consequence is that many Republicans from the North 
who settle among us take very little interest in politics, but there 
are a great many people who were born and raised in the South 
who always vote the Democratic ticket straight who would vote 
the Republican ticket if the negro was taken out of politics. Mark 
that. 

want to correct a great mistake. The negro has been taught 
to believe that the Southern white man is his enemy; the Northern 
white man his friend. I want to say to you that to-day the best 
friend the negro has in this world is the Southern white man. 
This may be startling to you, but it is true. The negro to-day has 
no one who looks after his interests more and who has a softer 
spot in his heart for him than the men of the South. Many a 
time have I seen the tears stand in the eyes of a Southern boy, 
now man, as he remembers his ^old black mammy’ and her love 
for him. He remembers it all; no wonder that tears stand in his 
eyes, for she was faithful even unto death. Do you think that a 
man like that could be untrue to the best interests of her sons and 
daughters, some of whom were the playmates of his youth? You 
may tell the poor, ignorant negro that man is not his friend, 
and possibly make him believe it, but you can’t tell me that, for 
I know better. 

had an ^old black mammy’ once myself, and when she died, 
tenderly we laid her away. I knew that I had lost a friend, faith- 
ful and true. Her skin was black, but her heart was true. She 
was a mother, and with all the mother-love of which her poor heart 
was capable she loved her children, and I felt that she loved me — 
her adopted child — almost as much as her very own. Do you 
think that I, feeling like that, could be so inhuman as not to be 
a friend to old black mammy’s children? 

^^Men of the North, the South is full of men to-day who had 
^Id black mammies.’ In loving remembrance they hold in mem- 


135 


THE TEXAN 


ory dear the thoughts of ^old black mammy/ As best as they can, 
they are to-day safeguarding the interests of ^old black mammy^s’ 
children. Yes, men of the North, without any disparagement of 
you whatever, I say without hesitation that the men of the South 
to-day are the negro’s best friends. 

^^Men of the North, the great trouble has been that the men of 
the North and those of the South have never understood each 
other on this great question. We have not met on some middle 
ground and frankly discussed the matter as it should be. The 
North has been too conscious of the fact that she whipped the 
South about that very question; the South, of the fact that she 
was whipped. 

^‘The North, proud of her victory, has relegated to herself the 
right unaided to settle the question as she sees fit ; and the South, 
smarting under the sting of her defeat, has withheld her unasked-for 
aid, while her hot Southern blood has said to the North, ^Beware, 
only thus far shalt thou go.’ They mean it, too, men of the North. 
I tell you plainly that the little unpleasantness that we had dur- 
ing the early sixties will be but as a zephyr compared to a rip- 
roaring, death-degling cyclone, if ever the men of the North try 
to force negro equality upon the people of the South. God forbid 
that the time should ever come again for such a test of strength ! 
But I warn you now that it will come if the North is ever so un- 
wise as to try to force negro equality upon the South. Not a 
Southern man that I know of who would not fight you to the 
death. 

“But I know, and I am thankful for it, that only a small per 
cent of the people of the North believe in negro equality. I doubt 
if one of you here do, but I want to pay my respects to the man 
who does. Do you know what I think of him? I’ll tell you. Any 
man who thinks a negro is his equal has no quarrel with me. I 
think he is about correct in his estimate of himself with one ex- 
ception — he thinks that the negro is his equal, I think the negro 
his superior. And the negro thinks so, too. I believe that in the 
hidden recesses of the heart of every negro there is a conscious- 
ness that the white man is his superior. God made him so; the 
negro himself knows it, and I believe that any white man who 


136 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


places himself on an equality with a negro loses that negro’s re- 
spect. I know he does mine. 

^^Yes, men of the North, I consider myself the superior of the 
negro. If you do not consider yourself his superior I have no 
quarrel with you. Perhaps you are right — you know more about 
yourself than I do. I suppose that your estimate of yourself is 
about correct. The idea of the equality of the races was the ille- 
gitimate child of Revenge and Hatred — ^born right after the war. 
There are none of her descendants in the South to-day except a 
very few imported ones. I am glad to say that her race is fast 
dying out in the North. If it were not for the politicians her race 
would have become extinct long ago. 

^The negro is by nature a servant. Place him in the majority, 
give him half a chance, and he will become your overbearing mas- 
ter. He knows his place ; make him stay in it. Don’t misunder- 
stand me; I do not mean to make a slave of him. No, gentlemen, 
if I could I would not re-establish slavery. The negro is now a 
free man, let him remain so; but he has a place — he knows it; 
make him stay in it — we of the South see that he does. 

“With us most of the negroes know their place and keep it. So 
long as he does, as long as he behaves himself, he has nothing 
whatever to fear. We don’t impose on him; we won’t let anybody 
else impose on him, either white or black. It is only the negro 
who gets out of his place and fails to behave himself, who gets 
into trouble. 

“What about the negro rape fiend ? What will you do with him, 
you ask? My answer is short if not sweet — kill him. Like the 
rattlesnake,, he has forfeited his right to live, and until we find 
something better to do with him he must die. Some of you shud- 
der. You would shudder worse if the victim of his unholy lust 
was your wife or your daughter. What would you do under such 
circumstances? Would you do as we, or would you run the risk 
of letting some smooth-tongued lawyer prevent a just law from 
taking its course? Gentlemen, we take no chances on the rape 
fiend, be he black or white. If his identity is fully established, 
his guilt made plain, Judge Lynch presides. There are no tech- 
nicalities in his court, the prisoner goes to meet his God. ^Black 
fingers on white throats,’ the South will never stand for it. I don’t 

137 


THE TEX AH 


know whether you approve of lynch law for negro rape fiends or 
not; to be plain with you, I don’t care. We are going to do it 
just that way, and we are not going to ask your or anybody else’s 
permission. Your newspapers may howl about it if they like; they 
can’t help it, and you can’t help it; and I tell you that as long 
as black brutes in human shape rape and murder the mothers and 
daughters of the South, just that long will there be some white 
man to send him to the Devil by the shortest and quickest route. 
We will protect our women and children. Our negroes approve 
of this themselves, for often has it been the case in the South 
where negroes have lynched negroes for this very thing. You’ve 
never been up against a thing like that, and God gi*ant that you 
never may; you don’t know what you would do. 

^‘1 tell you, gentlemen, with us it is not a question of whether 
we want to control the negro or not. We have to control him, 
and we are going to do it, and don’t care whether anybody likes 
it or not. I’ll tell you another thing plainly. Whenever it be- 
comes necessary in local affairs we will outvote the negro. We 
don’t like to do this, but when absolutely necessary we will. We 
acknowledge that it is a wrong, but compared to the train of 
wrongs that would follow' in tlie wake of negro domination that 
one wrong sinks into insignificance. Gentlemen, of the two evils 
we choose the lesser. You would do the same. The South never 
has been dominated by negroes; she never will be. 

^The great trouble with you Horthem people is that you don’t 
understand the true situation; you don’t understand the condi- 
tions that confront the South. With you, the negro is the subject 
of some pet theory; with us, he is an ever-present reality. You 
don’t have very many negroes. The South, with its warm climate, 
is the natural home of the negro. And then the Northern negro 
is quite a different proposition from the negro in the South. With 
you, a great many of your negroes own their homes or farms; 
compared with our negroes they are a thrifty set. With us, the 
negro is, as a rule, a poor, improvident creature. If he has a meal 
ahead he is contented. He doesn’t know nor care where the next 
one is to come from; he knows that his white friends won’t let 
him starve. The white people feed the negro when he is hungry; 
they clothe him when he is poor. 


138 


A TA1.E OF TEXAS 


^Tn the Southern negro’s code of morals it is not wrong to steal 
anything from a white man which they want to eat. Whenever we 
hire a. negro cook we know that she expects to, and will keep up 
three or four negroes in her home on the things to eat which she 
takes away from our house without our knowledge or consent. If 
you give credit to a negro, nine chances out of ten you will lose 
your debt. Most of the young boys are too lazy and shiftless to 
work. It’s easier to live on what their women bring them or what 
their mothers earn by washing. Virtue is a thing almost unknown 
among their women and girls. We can really control the men 
and boys among the negroes better than we can the girls and 
women. We can attend to them and make them do right, but 
what can you do with a woman who will not do right? 

^^But not all the negroes in the South are bad, trifling, and of 
no account. I know a few notable exceptions. There is in my 
own home a negro, Jerry by name, who has been working in my 
father’s family for twenty years. Jerry is all right any way you 
take him. He is honest, capable, and truthful. Jerry does what 
he believes to be right; he is conscientious. I would trust him 
with my money quicker than two-thirds of the white men I know. 
If necessary, I would flght for Jerry; I have done so. He is a 
man, and a good man at that. He knows his place and keeps it. 
The mean things which the negroes do really hurt him. He knows 
he is a negro, and his heart bleeds for the misdeeds of his own race. 

^^To tell you the truth, gentlemen, take any ante-bellum negro 
among us ; talk to him confldentially, and, invariably, you will find 
that his is a heart made sad by the deterioration of his race. They 
will all tell you that The nigger ain’t what he used to be,’ and 
there’s not a one of them but will heartily assist the whites in any 
effort to make the negroes what they ought to be. Our white 
people recognize the old ante-bellum negroes as men and women. 
They respect us, and we respect them and help them along in every 
way we can. Their faithfulness to Tld Massa’ and to Tld Missus’ 
during the war has not been forgotten. Gentlemen, we of the 
South have a great admiration of, and a great tenderness for, our 
old negroes. We are educating the negro children down South. 
The South has always believed in educating the negro, and even 
during the war the negroes were taught to read and write. Al- 

139 


THE TEXAN 


though the taxes of the negro are only a very small per cent of the 
taxes of the white man, yet we build them schoolhouses, and give 
them the same free school term the white children have. The 
superintendent of our white school is usually also the superin- 
tendent of the colored school. He does not teach there himself; 
he leaves that to negro school teachers, but in every way helps 
build up the negro school. It is but fair for me to say to you, 
gentlemen, that personally I am not in harmony with my State 
and with most of the Southern people in their idea of giving the 
negro a higher education. I would like to be. Much pleasanter 
would it be to me to be an optimist along this line, to embrace 
heartily the Booker T. Washington idea of educating the negro. 
From the bottom of my heart I would like to believe that, but, 
gentlemen, I canT. I believe in giving the negro some schooling 
(I would not keep him densely ignorant), but, gentlemen, my 
observation and experience has made a pessimist of me about the 
higher education of the negro — my observation has been that, as 
a rule, when you highly educate a negro, you make a fool of him, a 
fool who looks down with disdain upon those of his own race. 

‘‘Now, gentlemen, I am almost through. I have given you my 
views about the negro, and I have given them to you straight. I 
have given you the experience of one who has lived among the 
negroes over twenty years. I have studied him ; I think that I know 
the negro from Alpha to Omega. I have told you some things 
that you perhaps did not wish to hear, but ‘Am I your enemy 
because I have told you the truth?’ 

“Men of the North, you don’t understand the negro as we of 
the South do, and that is where the trouble lies. If you did we 
would have your sympathy instead of your blame, whenever it be- 
comes necessary for us to take drastic measures to control him. 
You don’t know what we have to put up with. The negro in the 
South is in deed and in truth, ‘the white man’s burden.’ We know 
him better than you do; we know both his good and his bad 
qualities. 

“I’ll tell you another thing that will surprise you, but it is the 
gospel truth. We are more patient with him than you of the North 
are. It is a fact, and I have seen it demonstrated time and time 
again. The Northern man who has moved South and has lived 


140 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


among ns for three or four 3^ears — long enough to know the South- 
ern negro as he really is — is invariably harder on the negro and 
has less patience with him than we of the South, who have knowm 
the negro all of our lives. That is the way you would be, too, if 
you lived in the South a while. 

^Tn your ideas about the negro, you are perfectly honest and 
sincere, but the trouble is you know veiy little about them. It is 
not a theory, but a condition that confronts us of the South — an 
ever-present question. The trouble is that you can’t realize that 
the negro question is a problem for the South to solve, and not 
for the North. Why don’t you let the South settle it? The 
United States is a great country. The problems which we as a 
nation have are many and various — most of them are serious ones. 
Each section of this country has a problem that that particular 
section is more interested in and knows more about than the other 
sections of the country. My idea is that although it would be 
somewhat prejudiced, yet whatever section is most interested in 
and knows most about any particular problem should be allowed 
to take the lead in the solution of it. The West should take the 
lead in the solution of the Chinese and Japanese problem; the 
East in the money problem; the North in the labor problem, and 
the South in the negro problem. That is just; that is fair. 

^^The war has been over now nearly twenty years. Don’t you 
think it is about time to quit fighting ? Don’t you think it is about 
time that the bitterness should cease ; that Mason’s and Dixon’s line 
should represent nothing more than the dividing line between 
light bread and hot biscuit? It would be better for the country 
if we would come up on a higher ground and be more of patriots 
than we are of politicians. We all love this country. It is our 
country. It is already the model Eepublic of the world, but it is 
not a perfect one yet. It never will be until the jealousies of sec- 
tionalism are done away with and we know no North, no South, 
no East, no West. 

^^Men of the North, I appeal to you, not as Northerners, but 
on the higher ground — I appeal to you as Americans, citizens of 
the United States, our brothers — to let the South settle the negro 
question. It will never be settled until you do. Take the negro 
out of politics, place his future in the hands of the South, and I 


141 


THE TEXAN 


verily believe that a decade will find the negro question settled. 
A great many of your foremost thinkers already advocate that 
course. 

^^e of the South know the negro. We are his best friends; 
trust us to map out his future for him. We will be just to him, 
and I verily believe the South will settle the question in a manner, 
not only satisfactory to you, but also that the negroes themselves 
will rise up and call us blessed. What the solution will be no man 
knows, but trust the South to settle the question, and it will be 
settled right. 

^^Gentlemen, I thank you.” 



142 


CHAPTEE XXIV. 


Tyvelve years after this the trouble came. Dark days were in 
store for Boh Lee, the Texan. Trouble came, trouble dark and 
deep. 

In 1895 Colonel Lee with others attempted to build a railroad, 
and so promising did it look for a fortune to everyone that Colonel 
Lee was only too glad for his son to be associated with him in the 
project. Even-dhing moved along nicely and the railroad was 
almost completed when a fearful panic hit the country. A gallant 
fight did those interested in the railroad make to ward ofi the 
inevitable. Men were sent to Xew York to make other financial 
arrangements when the old ones failed. But the E. S. & P. Eail- 
road Company (to which the new railroad would be a competitor) 
was also busy. With men and money at their command, it shad- 
owed those who went to New York to finance the new railroad, 
and when financial arrangements had almost been made, the agents 
of the E. S. & P. Eailroad Company succeeded in breaking into 
them. TVice were arrangements made to finance the road, and 
twice were they broken into. 

The inevitable came at last, and for the lack of just a few thou- 
sand dollars at the critical time the railroad was a failure and 
those connected with it saw the visions of their fortunes melt away 
and black financial ruin hovered over all. Each day grew darker 
and darker. Threatened lawsuits became lawsuits in reality. At- 
tachments soon followed and all hopes of success were cut off. 

Dark days followed each other in rapid succession, and each 
new day was darker than the one that had gone before. But the 
darkest of them all came at last and Colonel Lee was a suicide. 
All of his life it had been his proud boast that he had never owed 
a debt which he could not pay when due, and when an enterprise 
with which he was connected was a failure, and some were enemies 
who should have been friends, his proud spirit could not stand 
the strain. 

Black night seemed to hover over Bob Lee. The voice of the 
one who had guided him through life was still in death, and to 
him he could not go in this the darkest hour of his existence. It 


143 


THE TEXAN 


seemed to him that God Himself had turned against him. But 
the end was not yet. Financial ruin not only “stared him in the 
face/^ it was an ever-present reality. Before this he had never let 
a debt come due; he had always paid it beforehand, but here were 
thousands and thousands of dollars piled up in judgments against 
him that he saw no chance to ever pay. All his life he had been 
looked up to because of his honor and integrity, here he was now 
with his name on the tongue of even the most worthless, talked of 
as a man who wouldn’t pay his honest debts. 

Often it takes more courage to live than to die. Bob Lee found 
it so then; but with grim determination he hung on to the hope 
that some day in the far distant future he would be able to show 
to the world that he was not dishonest, although unfortunate. 

The philosophy of human happiness lies in looking for those 
who are more unfortunate than we. I once heard a man say that 
whenever he had the blues he stood on the street comer and looked 
at the passers-by, and that invariably some one would soon come 
along whom he knew was having a harder time in life than he. 
So for the sake of his own feelings Bob Lee often hunted for the 
unhappy instead of the happy ones. Not that he gloried in their 
misery, but it was some comfort to him to know that he was not 
the most miserable of all of those around him. But with all that, 
his own troubles became worse and worse, and to him, with his 
proud spirit, they became almost unbearable. 

It was during these trying times that Bob Lee realized the 
meaning of the word “friend.” Of course, he soon found out that 
some he thought were friends were not, but some he found pure 
gold. “A friend in need is a friend indeed,” and to Bob Lee then 
the word “friend” became one of the sweetest words in the Eng- 
lish language. The time had come for the sifting, and he found 
out then who was and who was not his friend. 

Unfortunately for him, most of the property which he had left 
from the wreck consisted of a fine home. According to the home- 
stead law, everyone knew that his home could not be sold for debts. 
But everyone did not know that Bob Lee went to his creditors and 
offered to give up his home and everything in it, and turn his 
family out into the street; nor did they know that his home and 
the other property which he had left was enough to pay his part 


144 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


of the indebtedness; or that his creditors refused to take his home 
when he offered to give it up. They saw that he wanted to do the 
right thing by them. The consequence was that Bob Lee still 
lived in his fine home, and he was conscious of the fact that many 
outsiders who did not know the facts were criticizing him and 
saying that he was living in a fine house, but not paying his debts. 
Even some of the members of his own church said hard things 
about him and his religion, or, rather, about the lack of his re- 
ligion. About the only thing that sustained him through those 
trying years was the inner consciousness that he was trying to do 
right, although under very trying circumstances. 

At last he became convinced that the only course left him to 
ever pay his debts was to become a bankrupt and legally free him- 
self from his debts. But this was bitterness and gall for him, for 
he was conscious of the general opinion that almost everyone has 
of those who became voluntary bankrupts. He knew that the gen- 
eral opinion was that a voluntary bankrupt was nearly always a 
thief — a thief who took a legal but dishonest way of repudiating 
an honest debt. 

Knowing that this was the general opinion,' and yet, voluntarily, 
to put himself in this false position before the world, and to know 
that they would think the same of him, was the hardest thing that 
Bob Lee ever did. It took grit and determination. And it took 
more grit and determination to hold out for seven long years in 
the doing of what he had laid out for himself. 

To a rascal, it would make but little difference what the world 
thought of him; but to an honest man, struggling on through 
seven long years trying to do right, and in all those seven years 
to be conscious of the fact that most people thought him dishonest, 
was a very bitter pill to swallow. But there was no use to say 
anything as to what he intended to do. Very few would have be- 
lieved it. People wanted actions, not words. It would take more 
than words, it would take actions, to convince them that he was 
honest. So Bob Lee said nothing, but struggled on under his 
heavy load. 

So sensitive was he of his position in the opinion of the people, 
that he even dreaded to drive through town in his old buggy-, for 


145 


THE TEXAN 


fear that some one would say that by rights he ought to have to 
walk, that the buggy belonged to his creditors. 

No one under heaven knows what he suffered during those long 
seven years! Something of what he did and something of what 
he suffered 1^11 tell you in his own words, in the next chapter. 


146 


CHAPTEE XXV. 


‘A STATEMENT. 

1895 I, with several others^ attempted to build a railroad. 
For the lack of a few thousand dollars at a critical time we failed 
to complete it, and, almost before I knew it, I found myself finan- 
cially buried under an avalanche of railroad debts. Most of you 
know what followed — ^how I lost my father — just at this crucial 
time of my life. Seeing that the railroad was a failure, I did 
what any honest man would do — endeavored to pay my debts. I 
went to the largest creditors of the railroad and offered to give up 
my home and everything else I had if they would release me from 
my part of the debts. This was no small offer either, for my home 
and what other property I had was more than sufficient to pay off 
my part of all the railroad debts. Some of my creditors said that 
they had no legal claim to my home, and would under no circum- 
stances take it away from me, although I was willing to give it up. 
Some said one thing and some another. And because of the num- 
ber of them, and more especially because of the magnanimity of 
some of my creditors more than anything else, I failed to make the 
settlement that I proposed. 

‘^^What was I to do ? Such a thing as not paying an honest debt, 
if I ever became able to do so, never entered my head, and I hope 
never shall. But how was I to pay these debts ? was the question. 
I could never hope to make enough on a salary to pay them off. 
And if I were to go into any business, I knew there were shrewd 
lawyers justly watchful of their clients^ interests who, having 
judgments against me, were eager for a chance to collect them. 
In addition to all that, I had no money to go into business. 

^‘Some kind friends offered me financial assistance and backing, 
but I gratefully declined to receive it, because I knew what money 
they loaned me would be gobbled up, unless I was willing to per- 
petrate that well-known fraud of doing business in my wife^s 
name, and that I was unwilling to do. So it seemed to me there 
was only one possible way to ever be able to pay my honest debts, 
and that was to take advantage of the bankruptcy law and legally 


147 


THE TEXAH 


free myself from my debts, not to beat them, as is so often done, 
but to protect myself while I was making money enough to pay 
them. Looking back over the years that have passed I am satis- 
fied that my judgment was correct and that this was the only thing 
I could have done if I ever expected to pay my debts. 

“At the time I took advantage of the bankruptcy law I cer- 
tainly did so with fear and trembling, for I realized that the ma- 
jority of people had cause to think and did think that those who 
became bankimpts voluntarily were thieving rascals. I knew that 
although I resorted to the bankruptcy law in order to be able 
some time to pay my debts, there were those who would think that 
I did it to legally repudiate my debts for all time to come; and 
that I should have to rest with this cloud on my character in their 
eyes until I could prove to them that I was not low down or dis- 
honest enough to take advantage of any legal technicality to keep 
from paying an honest debt. So I did what I hated to do — I be- 
came a voluntary bankrupt — ground through the bankruptcy court 
— and received a legal discharge from all my debts on April 15, 
1899. 

“It is time that after my discharge in bankruptcy my mother 
gave me some money, but she gave it to me with the understanding 
that I was not to pay it out on my railroad debts, but could use 
it as a capital to make money with which to pay my debts. And 
she was right. 

“After my discharge in bankruptcy I saw no opportunity in 
Georgetown just then, so I left my home and temporarily moved 
to Abilene to make money with which to pay ofi my creditors. I 
determined, however, that never leave Georgetown for good 
until I cleared my name from even an appearance of being a legal 
thief. At Abilene I made money very rapidly. I brought it back 
home and paid my home creditors in full, both principal, interest, 
and attorney’s fees, for my part of the railroad debts that were 
due them, and I have their receipts for the same, dated February 
13, 1900. It cost me a little less than two thousand dollars to pay 
them my part of the railroad indebtedness. After this I went to 
work to make enough money to pay off my foreign creditors. 

“Since taking advantage of the bankruptcy law I’ve made about 
fifteen trades, and I have made money on all of them; but, for 


148 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


fear you may think that I am advertising my egotism, I hasten 
to say that I do not believe this to be the result of business acumen 
or foresight. It has taught me this great lesson, which I believe 
from the bottom of my heart, and that is, that there is a Divine 
Being above us all who is a lover of honesty and right and who 
will help any man who is trying to do right and pay his honest 
debts. 

^‘^About the first of this year I began to pay off my foreign cred- 
itors, and although they were many and scattered, I have found 
them all and paid them off and hold their receipts, with the ex- 
ception of two — one of whom I know to be dead, and as yet I have 
been unable to find his family. These two are small creditors. I 
owe them but $50.85, and I have that ready to pay them, if I can 
ever find the one or the family of the other one. As far as I know 
I have paid all my part of the old railroad debts with the exception 
of these two, and if I have accidentally overlooked any debt I would 
esteem it a favor if anyone would let me know of it. I have not 
scaled my debts a cent, but in every instance I have paid dollar for 
dollar; IVe not only paid the principal dollar for dollar, but have 
also paid the interest, the compound interest, and the attorneys 
fees. 

‘^Tn addition to the work of some of the very best years of my 
life, it has cost me a little less than two thousand dollars to pay 
up my home creditors and over four thousand dollars to pay up 
my foreign creditors. In all I have paid out about six thousand 
dollars in paying off these debts that I was legally free from and 
the majority of which were out of date, and all of which were not 
my individual debts, but railroad debts. And I thank my God that 
I have made money enough and lived long enough to prove to my 
creditors, my friends, and my neighbors that there is not a dis- 
honest thought in my heart. 

^^The nearest thing to a hell on earth that I can imagine is for 
an honest man to feel that somebody thinks him dishonest, and 
although some have seen fit to criticize me in the past I have not 
an enemy on earth that I could be heartless enough to wish him 
or her to go through what it has been my lot to go through during 
the last seven long years of my life. A man who can pay an hon- 
est debt and won’t do so is a thief. But not every man is a thief 


149 


THE TEXAH 


who doesnT pay just when you think he ought to. Many a poor 
fellow is doing his very best to pay and needs your sympathy in- 
stead of your harsh criticisms. ^ 

^^After a long struggle, my financial horizon is clear at last; 
my railroad debts are paid, and I now feel that I can again hold 
my head up among men and be free once more. It is true that I 
yet owe some money (part of which I borrowed to pay ofi these 
old debts), but the parties I owe are secured and I can easily pay 
what I owe them whenever it shall become due. I hold many kind 
letters from my creditors complimenting me very highly, but while 
I heartily appreciate their kind words^ I really feel that there is 
no special credit due me. While probably nine out of ten would 
not have done as I did about these railroad debts, still I feel that 
I have only done what I started out to do and what any honest 
man should have done ; that is, pay his debts as quickly as he could, 
and I deserve no credit for being honest. 

"I publish this statement, not % blow my own horn,^ but be- 
cause, having been placed in the position that I have been, I feel 
that I ought to publish it as a mere matter of justice to myself, 
my family, my friends, and my dead father. It is rather lengthy, 
but I could not well shorten it. 

“I want to say, in conclusion, that I expect to make money in 
the future, and I want it distinctly understood that, if I do, it is 
all mine to spend just as I see fit, and I expect to enjoy it. 

^Wery respectfully, 

^^Eobert E. Lee.” 

The above statement appeared in the Georgetown papers during 
the latter part of 1902 and, of course, created somewhat of a sen- 
sation. Many were the kind words said to Bob Lee. He appre- 
ciated them all, but felt that he had only done what any honest 
man should have done. 


150 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


It was Billy Casey, Sam Wilcox, Jeff Bullington, and Bob Lee 
who went on the annual deer hunt in 1903. Jeff Bullington and 
Bob Lee you already know and ought to know Billie Casey, 
nearly every one else does. If you ever come to G-eorgetown and 
see a very dark-skinned white man standing in a crowd telling a 
joke, keeping the crowd in a good humor, and doing more than his 
share of the laughing, you go right up to him and say, “Howdy, 
Billie.” You wonT make any mistake. ThaPs Billie. 

You might think that you were speaking to a white-skinned 
colored man, but you are not. You are speaking to a dark-skinned 
white man, and you will be talking to as white a man as you ever 
saw, even if his skin does need whitewashing. I like Billie Casey. 
He sees the bright side of life and has a good joke ready for every 
occasion. Some people say that the ticks never bother him; that 
his hide is so full of jokes that a tick can’t find a place to stick 
on to. I don’t know about that, but I do know that he is a jolly 
good fellow to go camping with. 

Don’t you know Sam Wilcox? He is a whizzer. He weighs 
two hundred pounds, less a hundred and ten pounds. The big- 
gest thing about Sam is his appetite. In one way Sam Wilcox 
reminds me of Crazy Tom, and that is, both are always threaten- 
ing to get married, and neither ever does. I wish some girl would 
marry Sam Wilcox. Sam is little, but he isn’t slow. I saw him 
tried on this very trip, when he wounded a wild javelina boar and 
the whole bunch of javelinas got after him. He led the whole bunch 
in the race. He was surely moving some when he got into camp. 
You can’t tell me Sam Wilcox is slow. Don’t you feel as if you 
knew Sam now ? All right, we will go on with the hunting trip. 

They went on the train to Cotulla, in South Texas, and there 
with two wagons and a Mexican cook Mr. Yeager met them and 
took them forty miles from the railroad to his ranch on the Nueces 
River. Mr. Yeager is one of those whole-souled Texas ranchmen 
who loves his friends and who has no enemies, and if he likes you 
he can’t do enough for you. His cook. Old Juan, was one of those 
old, fat, lazy Mexicans whose only business in life seemed to be to 

151 


THE T E X A H 


cook, and who alwa3^s put plenty of pepper in everything that 
came on the table — they say that he even put pepper in the coffee. 

Before the crowd left Cotulla, Jeff Bullington went to the post- 
office and mailed a letter. It was addressed to ^Aliss Laura Lee, 
Georgetown, Texas.^’ 

It was composed entirely of the names of popular songs, and 
read : 

Antonio’’ — “Down Where the Cotton Blossoms Grow.” 

“Thursday Always Was My Jonah Day.” 

“The Lass I Love: 

“I’ve Something Sweet to Tell You” — “When We Meet Again” 
— “In the Shade of the Old Apple Tree” — “There’ll be a Hot Time 
in the Old Town”— “Because”— “I Love You”— “You, You, You” 
—“Don’t You Tell I Told You”— “Could I But Tell Thee”— 
“While EverjLody is in Slumberland But You and Me” — “You 
Can’t Give Your Heart to Somebody Else and Still Hold Hands 
With Me” — “I Like a Little Loving How and Then” — “Love Me 
and the World is Mine” — “Every Star Falls in Love With its 
Mate” — “All I Get is Sympathy” — “Maybe” — “Some Day When 
Dreams Come True” — ^^bu’ll Tell Me if You Love Me” — “I Am 
Wearing My Heart Away for You” — “Just Because You Love 
Another” — “Isn’t it Xice to Have Someone to Love You ?” — “She 
Doesn’t Seem to Care About Me !” — “I Am All in and Down and 
Out.” 

“Good-bye, Little Girl, Good-bye,” 

“Honey Boy.” 

The first night out of Cotulla camp was struck on the Nueces 
Eiver, about ten miles from town. The two wagons were driven 
up close together, and a wagonsheet stretched between them to 
keep off the dew. Under this temporary shelter the beds were 
spread. 

Billie told a joke and all were soon sound asleep. Before day- 
light next morning Mr. Yeager and Old Juan were up, the camp 
fire was built, and everybody was soon standing around it except 
Jeff. He was tired out and complacently slept on. 

“Let’s get a move on Jeff,” said Mr. Yeager, and he and Bob 
grabbed the harness and both ran over Jeff, yelling, ^W/lioa!” as 


152 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


loud as they could, while Billie and Sam each grabbed a wagon 
wheel and shook the wagons and yelled ^AVhoa lustily, too. Such 
a commotion you never saw. Imagine, if you can, a man sleeping 
soundly whose first impression on coming back to consciousness 
was that a wild mule was running over him, and you have a faint 
conception of what poor Jeff thought that morning. Don’t you 
laugh at Jeff, because he came out from under the cover with a 
scared look on his face and began to crawl for dear life to get 
away from that wild mule. 

Still dazed from his sudden awakening, under a wagon Jeff went 
on his all-fours — ^he was bound to get away from that mule. If 
you don’t think that it scares a sleeping man half to death to sud- 
denly run over him with the harness and yell ^^Whoa!” well, just 
let somebody try it on you, that’s all. 

Old man Yeager always vowed that Jeff went through the wheel 
in getting under that wagon; maybe he did. One thing is sure. 
He had a knot on his head where he butted the coupling pole after 
he got under. Mr. Yeager vowed that he cracked the coupling 
pole. And Billie told a joke. 

That day, as they were driving along in the wagon. Bob asked 
Mr. Yeager who owned a certain house which they saw in the dis- 
tance. 

^‘That belongs to a man named Jalonick,^’ he replied; ‘^a Bo- 
hemian,” and added, ^^Nobody likes Jalonick; he doesn’t seem to 
get along with anybody.” 

^^My goodness, Mr. Yeager, are the foreigners taking the coun- 
try down here like they are up our way? Up our way we have 
too many of them to suit me. I think that we are entirely too 
free with our invitations to foreigners to become American citi- 
zens, anyway. Some of the immigrants that we get are all right, 
and make good citizens, but my opinion is that the United States 
would be better off without most of them. Of course, it would 
take us longer to develop this country, but it would pay us to go 
slow in the long run. Like it is, we are getting citizens in quan- 
tity very fast, but we are also lowering the quality of our American 
citizenship. A good many of our immigrants come over because 
they are ^agin the governmenf at home, and many of them are 
really anarchists at heart, and it is too often the case that the 


153 


THE TEXAH 


scum of other nations is unloaded on the United States ; and, mark 
my words, we are going to see much trouble over it sooner or later. 

“^^They come here with their low ideals of government and of 
what is right, and we almost immediately embrace them and make 
full-fledged American citizens of them, with just as much rights 
as you and I have, and with as much say as to how this govern- 
ment should be run. I believe in America for Americans, and I 
believe in letting our foreigners stay here some time and at least 
"get acclimated before we give them equal rights with us. I have 
always been an American citizen, and for that reason am sup- 
posed to have a patriotic pride in the welfare of this government; 
and yet I had to stay here twenty-one years before they would let 
me vote, and I donT see why our adopted citizens should be treated 
so much better than our native-born ones, 

^Tf I had my way, I would never let an Italian, a Slav, a Hun, 
a Bohemian, a Greek, a Eussian Jew, or a Pole become a citizen 
of this country; and a whole lot of the Dutch, according to my 
ideas, have very poor judgment as to what is best for the country 
and for the home. 

‘^Al\ of those people have a right to their opinions, but if I had 
my way they never would get a chance to override the high ideals 
of most native-born Americans and bring this nation down to their 
ideals, because I was foolish enough to put it in their power to 
do so by giving them an unrestricted ballot. As it is, the United 
States is certainly treading on dangerous ground. The greatest 
danger to the United States to-day is the foreign vote. We are in 
the position where we must Americanize our foreigners, or they 
will surely alienize us. And I fear that they will alienize us; not 
only alienize us, but actually control us. 

^Toreigners hold the balance of power in many of our States 
now, and with our practically unrestricted immigration I believe 
that the time is not far distant when foreigners will be in actual 
control and make all of our laws. I guess, though, that even that 
would only be Tit-for-tat,^ as the children say, because our fore- 
fathers ran the Indians out of this country and took it, and it 
would be about even-handed justice for the foreigners to run us 
out and take away our country. Of course, I know that originally 
we were all foreigners, and that many foreigners move here and 


154 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


raise children who become as good citizens as anybody. What I 
mean by a foreigner is one who was born in some other country 
and becomes a citizen of the United States by adoption. He is 
the fellow that I think we are too quickly giving too much say 
in this country. 

^^The politicians know this better than anybody else, but they 
are afraid to say anything about it; they are afraid of being de- 
feated by the foreign vote if they do, and their fears are well- 
grounded. The United States has several big questions that will 
have to be settled, and it will take wise heads and thoughtful, 
patriotic statesmen to settle them right. I don’t believe that, as 
a rule, the adopted citizens that we are making so fast are com- 
petent to hold the balance of power and settle those questions as 
they should be. Unionism, labor versus capital, the negro, the 
prohibition, the money, and the immigration questions, are all 
great and live questions which must be settled; questions that 
every patriotic American citizen wants to see settled right and 
for the common good of the nation. I believe every one of them 
are questions that our newly adopted citizens are particularly in- 
competent to handle justly, because, first, they are lacking in pa- 
triotism; and, second, their knowledge of the issues involved is 
very limited and one-sided. If to that you add their low ideals of 
what is right on general principles, pray tell me what can you 
expect as a correct solution of those great questions when a citi- 
zenship like that is in a position to cast the deciding vote?” 

And Billie told a joke. 


155 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


One joke which Billie told on this hunting trip especially tickled 
me, not because it was so very funny, but because it was so like 
negroes. It was an old joke, too, so Billie said. 

Billie said that ^‘Once there was a negro baptizing; three negro 
women were to be baptized. The preacher took them out into the 
river and before baptizing them he said: ^ilow, sisters, as soon as 
I baptize you — just as soon as you come up and your heads get 
out of the water — I want you to say something, it will help along.’ 
^All right. Brother Jackson,’ they agreed. So he soused the first 
sister under the water, and when she came up she shouted, ^Glory 
to God !’ Down went the second sister, and as she came up she 
shouted ‘^Halle-lu-jah !’ Under the water the third sister went, 
but the water scared her so badly that when she went under she 
forgot what she intended to say and when she came up she shouted, 
Uhristmas Gift.’ ” 

On the evening of the second day out our campers struck camp 
on the Nueces River, on Mr. Yeager’s ranch. Deer tracks were 
numerous, and our hunters were in high feather. That was the 
evening Sam Wilcox went out hunting and shot the javelina boar 
and the javelinas made him circulate so freely as he showed them 
the way back into camp. The good-natured guying the boys gave him 
that night, and the yarns they told on him about how far he dis- 
tanced the javelinas in the race, would have angered some people, 
but not Sam. He took it good naturedly, but jokingly threatened 
to whip Bob Lee if he did not let up on him, and Bob replied : 

“Sam, if you and I got into a fight, it would be just like Judge 
Houghten’s and Judge Sansom’s fight. Judge Houghten was a 
little, weazly runt about j^our size, and Judge Sansom was a large, 
fieshy man, about as stout as I am and about as tall as Jeff. They 
were just opposites physically. They fell out about something and 
Judge Houghten got so mad that he couldn’t stand it — he had to 
fight, so disregarding the difference in their size, he proceeded to 
pommel Judge Sansom with his fists with all of his strength. 
Judge Sansom was one of those men who was as brave as he was 
big, and consequently considered it cowardly to strike a little fel- 


156 


A TALE OP TEXAS 


low like Judge Hougliten. He did not return blow for blow, but 
let Judge Hougliten fight on until he had nearly winded himself 
and then turning to him said in a surprised tone, ^Why, Judge 
Hougliten, are you fighting T 

The next morning before day everybody was up. Old Juan had 
the coffee and the bread ready, a hearty meal was eaten, everybody 
pointed out the direction from camp he intended to hunt so there 
would be no conflicts, and by daylight everybody had slipped away 
in a different direction, each determined to bring back a fine buck. 

Bob carried a long shooting 30-30 gun, and for that reason de- 
cided to go right down the river, so that there would be nobody 
on one side of him. In that way his chances of accidentally shoot- 
ing anybody with his long range gun would be materially lessened. 
He took his course just between the river and the bayuk, while 
Jeff, with his 30-40 Winchester, hunted next to him, but on the 
other side of the hayuk; while Mr. Yeager was still on the other 
side of Jeff, out near the foothills. 

After they had been hunting about half an hour Bob heard Mr. 
YeagePs old shotgun speak, but after stopping and listening, and 
not hearing Mr. Yeager call, he knew that he had missed getting 
his deer. Not long after, he heard the crack of Jeff’s 30-40, and 
so in hopes was he that Jeff had gotten his deer that he made his 
way to the very edge of the mesquites, next to the bayuk and 
leaning on his rifle stood looking across the three hundred feet of 
open space, hoping to hear Jeff’s call, which would say plainer than 
words, “I have a deer.” But no call came and, disappointed at 
Jeff’s hard luck and his own failure to get a shot, he recocked his 
rifle and went slipping through the mesquite bushes next to the 
bayuk, more determined than ever to kill a deer. But luck was 
against him and not a deer could he find, although he found plenty 
of fresh tracks. 

For half a mile or more he had gone, looking and listening, when 
he came to a number of deer tracks which came out of and went 
into the bayuk. Here is where the deer feed at night, he thought; 
maybe they have a trail across the bayuk here. Following the trail 
with his eye he looked to see if he could tell where it went 
through the high grass, in the bayuk. He could follow the trail 
with his eye for some distance, but it soon became lost in the high 

157 


THE TEXAN 


grass and instinctively he raised his eyes to where it came out on 
the other side of the ba5mk. From the mesquite bushes, on the 
other side of the bayuk, there flashed into view a magniflcent buck, 
with a fine head of horns, coming directly towards him. To throw 
his rifle to his shoulder was but the work of an instant, but in 
that instant the buck had seen him and changed his course and 
there was nothing to do but to let drive at him and take the chance 
of getting him with a long range running shot. The deer was in 
the air as he shot, and his bullet went true, for at the crack of the 
rifle the buck almost turned a somersault and failed to jump again 
and he knew that he had killed it. 

With the crack of the gun there came to Bob’s ears another 
sound, and it filled him with horror — a cry of intense suffering, 
which he heard as a voice somewhere in the distance uttered just 
one word, ^^Oh !” 

Filled with a feeling of dread foreboding, as rapidly as he could 
Bob made his way across the bayuk, never stopping to take off his 
shoes to wade through the muddy water in the middle of It. Splash.- 
ing through it he was both wet and muddy nearly up to his waist. 
But what cared he ? That dread ^‘Oh had lent terror to his feet. 
He didn’t even stop to cut the buck’s throat, although as he passed 
he saw it quivering in its death struggles not ten feet away. One 
thought filled his mind, one question — had he hurt anybody when 
he shot? 

Pulling his tired feet through the thick grass at last he reached 
the other side of the ba3ruk, and stopped and listened. Not a sound 
could he hear. Not satisfied, he left the bayuk and went some dis- 
tance into the mesquite bushes, looking and listening. So afraid 
was he that somebody was hurt that he shouted lustily. Still no 
answer. Surely he must have been mistaken, he concluded. 

He had been so afraid that he would hurt somebody with that 
long range gun and his nerves had been so overworked, that his 
imagination must have played him a trick, and he really had heard 
nobody after all. Not entirely satisfied, he turned and started 
back to where his deer was, but he had not gone far before ho 
stopped and listened again; he wanted to be sure. Still not a 
sound did he hear, and, now thoroughly satisfied, he had just 
raised his foot to go on, when he heard a faint cry of ‘^Help, Help !” 

158 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


off to his left. As fast as he could he made his way in the direc- 
tion from whence the sound came. It was not long before he came 
upon a sight which he will never forget. There upon the ground 
lay J eff . He was as pale as a ghost, while the blood was still flow- 
ing freely from a wound in his side. 

^‘My God, Jeff, whaffs the matter?” 

^T^m shot, Bob, and I am. afraid that it is fatal,” came the 
answer in a weak voice. 

^^DonT tell me that I’ve shot you, Jeff ! For God’s sake, don’t 
tell me that I’ve shot you !” he pleaded. ^^How flid it happen ?” 

“I don’t know, Bob; all I know is that I had jumped a big buck 
and was trailing along after him trying to get a shot, when I heard 
a shot somewhere over yonder and the bullet hit me.” 

“My God, Jeff, that was my shot !” the poor fellow groaned in his 
agony as he realized that the bullet had gone through the buck 
and still had force enough to probably kill his very best friend. 
Added to this crowded the thought of how very near he had come 
to leaving Jeff out there in the woods alone to die. The very 
thought of it made him shiver. But he had no time for further 
thought for the wound was still bleeding freely, and Jeff was get- 
ting weaker and weaker every moment. 

“I’m dying, Bob,” he said, “but don’t blame yourself ; it was all 
an accident. Tell Laura I loved her to the end,” And the poor 
fellow’s head fell back upon the ground as from sheer exhaustion 
he fainted away. 

Bob thought that Jeff was dead, but, hoping almost against 
hope that it was only a faint, he ran at full speed to the water, 
and getting a hat full he quickly returned and dashed it into 
Jeff’s face. 

“Thank God!” he exclaimed, as he saw Jeff shiver. 

It seemed an age before he opened his eyes and slowly did he 
return to consciousness. The very fact that he had opened his 
eyes once more in this world instead of in another, caused a faint 
smile to come upon Jeff’s face. But again he swooned and again 
did Bob bring him back to consciousness. 

“I must get help,” he said to himself and he flred his rifle in 
the air three times in quick succession, and then shouted with all 
his might. 


159 


THE TEXAH 


Out in the mesquite, next to the foothills, Mr. Yeager heard his 
first shot and, as all deer hunters do, stopped still in his tracks to 
see what the rifie would say next. In quick succession came the 
second shot. 

^^Missed his first shot,’’ he said aloud as the rifle spoke a second 
time. 

And then came to him the sound of the rifle speaking the third 
time. 

^^He is giving him thunder,” he said, and to him came the 
vision of a deer running and Jeff shooting at him as he ran. But 
no, to him standing there listening came another sound, which 
completely changed the picture; it was the sound of a human voice 
which was faintly borne to his ears right after the third shot. 

^^Oh, that’s what’s the matter; you are lost, are you?” and he 
fairly made the woods resound with his answering shout. 

Three shots in rapid succession followed by a shout had been 
the signal agreed upon before leaving camp, in case anybody should 
get lost. 

Turning in the direction from which the signal came, the ex- 
perienced woodsman strode along, laughing softly to himself as 
he thought of the fun that he would have out of Jeff for not being 
able to keep his directions straight in the woods. 

“I thought that Jeff was a pretty good woodsman,” he said to 
himself, ‘fi)ut I guess that he is a tenderfoot. I knew that Bob 
wouldn’t get lost. I’d like to see anybody lose him in the woods. 
He is a regular Indian for directions.” 

To the listening man, with his wounded companion so near to 
death, there could not liave come any sound more pleasant than 
the answering shout of Mr. Yeager, for more plainly than words 
did it say to him : ‘T’ve heard you ; I understand your signal ; 
I’m coming,” and in his heart there welled up a great thankfulness 
that help was in hearing of his call. 

It seemed an age before Mr. Yeager got there. The silent woods 
are a lonesome companion for one who is expecting every breath 
of a much-loved friend to be the last. All was as silent as the 
grave until Mr. Yeager, only some three hundred yards away, 
called again. Bob’s answer soon brought him in sight. 

^AVell, I’ll swear, Bob^ is it you that is lost?” he asked as he 


160 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


came in sight, but Bob only pointed to the prostrate form of Jeff. 
As best they could they stopped the flow of blood and Mr. Yeager 
went to the camp after whisky and the wagon. To Bob alone in 
the woods with his only partially conscious bosom friend it seemed 
untold ages before he came back with the wagon. He came at last 
and a swig of whisky so revived Jeff that he came back to a full 
realization of what was going on around him. 

More dead than alive Jeff reached Cotulla. The doctor there 
said that he doubted seriously if he would ever get back to George^ 
town alive. 

At Cotulla Sam Wilcox, at Jeff^s earnest request, went to the 
postoffice for the mail. He brought back a letter for Jeff, which 
Jeff tore open with a great deal of eagerness. Let us look over 
his shoulder and read the letter as he reads it : 

“Home, Sweet Home.” 

“Dearie”: “Where is My Wandering Boy To-night?” — “When 
the Evening Breeze is Sighing” — “I Miss You More and More 
Every Day” — “Just Awearyin’ for You” — “You Are Just My 
Style” — ^“For You Say You Love Me” — “How Many Have You 
Told That To?” — “I Miss You in a Thousand Different Ways” — ■ 
“I Cannot, I Cannot Forget You, Dear” — “For I Love the Last 
One Best of All” — “Just for Old Times’ Sake” — “Bring Back, 0, 
Bring Back My Bonny to Me” — “0, Promise Me.” 

“Lonesome To-night,” 

“The Girl You Left Behind You.” 

At Cotulla, Bob made arrangements for a special train to take 
them home, and all that kind nursing and a good doctor could do 
was done for Jeff. 

It has always been a question in my mind who really suffered 
more during that tr^dng time, Jeff Bullington or Bob Lee. I 
really believe that mental suffering is worse than physical suffer- 
ing. Contrary to expectations, Jeff reached home alive. His 
vitality was wonderful, the doctor said, but I believe that the letter 
he received at Cotulla had something to do with it. But the fever 
set up and then there followed the long dreary days and nights, 
and the desperate battle for life. 

Bob Lee could not be prevailed upon to pay any attention to 

161 


THE TEXAH 


himself during that dreadful time. Night after night and often 
alone he sat by the bedside of his suffering friend, and did all 
that it was possible for a friend to do. 

Jeff was delirious most of the time, and one night he almost 
broke Bob’s heart when in his delirium he kept repeating in piti- 
ful pleadings: ^^Don’t shoot me, Bob! don’t shoot me. Bob!” To 
the suffering watcher alone in the night each word was a stab, and 
his unbidden tears flowed thick and fast. He couldn’t help it. 
True that it was an accident, but that he had been the cause of 
all this suffering and would probably be the cause of Jeff’s death 
at last, was almost unbearable. 

I never saw anybody who loved his friends like Bob Lee did, 
and here was his bosom friend, his chum, the man who had led 
him to be a Christian, he who had saved him and Bess from the 
mad coyote — so very near his grave and all because of his careless- 
ness. It was almost unbearable to think of it. 

The doctor feared the worst and not one word of encouragement 
would he give poor Bob as to the flnal outcome, but only shook 
his head whenever questioned. 

In my opinion (and I’m sure that I am correct about it), there 
was only one thing that saved Jeff Bullington’s life. That was 
what Laura Lee did. It took just such a thing as this to bring her 
to her senses and to show her that the closing up of the fountains 
of love because of the memory of Seth Eollins was more senti- 
mental than sensible. When she came to a realization of how 
much she loved Jeff Bullington; how true a lover he had been; 
how patiently he had waited through all these years for her to 
know her own heart; how mean she had been to him — all these 
things almost overwhelmed her. Her great heart throbbed as she 
knew now for the first time what it really meant to love. 0, how 
she did love him ! And when Bob told her the message That Jeff 
had sent her when he thought that he was dying, that he ^Vas 
true to the end,” she fervently prayed to her God that He would 
let him live. God heard the prayer of His despairing child and 
in His great love granted her request. 

That evening Laura sent a bouquet and a note by Bess. It 
wasn’t much of a note, but it meant a great deal more than it said. 
It read: 


162 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


“Dear J eff : I know at last how very much I have always loved 
you. How foolish I have been ! Live for my sake, dear boy. I 
want to spend the balance of my life trying to make amends. 

“Laura.’^ 

The very minute Jeff Bullington received that note he began to 
get well. Often in his delirium had Bob heard him murmuring 
Laura^s name, and Bob had often wondered how his sister could 
fail to return the love of such a man as Jeff. 

“Who sent your flowers T’ he would ask almost every night after 
this, and he could see the love light in his eyes as Jeff would 
answer, “Laura.” 

Bob had his thoughts, and they were pleasant ones, but he asked 
no questions. 

At last the dreaded day came, and the crisis was safely passed. 
The doctor said that with careful nursing Jeff would get well, and 
you can imagine it took a great load off of the heart of Bob Ijee. 

Jeff Bullington^s illness was almost more than another person 
could stand, and that person was Bess. When Bob told her that 
the great danger was safely passed, her childish heart was almost 
beside itself with joy, for next to “Buddie” Mr. Jeff was her beau 
ideal of all that was great and grand and good. 

Nothing would do her, after Jeff began to get well, but that she 
should help Buddie nurse him, and so to pacify her Bob one night 
allowed her to go with him to help nurse Jeff. The poor fellow 
was really glad of her assistance, for he was almost past going, 
and was but a shadow of his former self. About one o^clock he 
became very drowsy and, as Jeff was doing so well, decided that 
he would let Bess watch an hour or so while he caught a much- 
needed rest in his chair. 

“If I shouldn’t wake up before two, Bess, here is the medicine 
to give Jeff at two. See here, this one that says ^a teaspoonful 
every three hours.’ Here are the quinine tablets to give him about 
five, but I’ll be awake long before then.” 

Bess felt very important at being head nurse. 

At two. Bob was still asleep, and Bess gave the medicine and 
Jeff dozed off again and the head nurse found out that sitting up 
alone with nothing to do wasn’t so funny after all. 

Bob was sleeping soundly in his rocking chair with his head 


163 


THE TEXAN^ 


thrown back and his mouth standing wide open. WouldnT it be 
funny, Bess thought, to drop a bitter quinine tablet into Buddie’s 
mouth and watch him spit? The more she thought about it, the 
more she wanted to do it; it was too good a chance to get even 
with him for teasing her. 

Tipping up behind his chair, she dropped a quinine tablet on 
his tongue. Her fullest expectations as to fun were realized, and 
while Bob spit and spit Bess laughed. 

After the bitter taste was gone and the fun was over. Bob asked : 

^^Bess, did you give Jeff his medicine at two ?” 

^‘Yes, Buddie, the bottle said to give a teaspoonful, but I thought 
if a teaspoonful was good, a tablespoonful must be better and 
would get Mr. Jeff' well quicker, so I gave him a tablespoonful."” 

The doctor was immediately summoned by telephone, as the 
medicine was a very powerful one, and by hard work succeeded in 
counteracting its effect. 

It surely was a good thing that Bess got mischievous and gave 
Bob the quinine tablet, for if it had been much longer, and the 
medicine had had time to take effect, Jeff’s life could not possibly 
have been saved. Poor Bess was, of course, in tears and scared 
half to death, and her brother kept to himself how near she came 
to killing Jeff with her good intentions but poor judgment. 

After that she never asked to help nurse “Mr. Jeff” any more, 
but that night after Jeff was out of danger she made a sorrowful 
confession to her brother, when she said: “Buddie, if God cut 
me out for a nurse, I guess he must have got hold of the wrong 
pattern.” 


164 


CHAPTEE XXVIII. 


One Sunday evening Jeff Bullington made a special visit to Mrs. 
Lee. Jeff always was bashful, and he did not exactly know how 
to begin, so when Mrs. Lee came into the parlor he was ill at ease, 
but managed to say: ‘^Mrs. Lee, I came down this evening to ask 
you for your daughter.’^ 

When with a smile Mrs. Lee asked, “Which one of my daughters 
do you want?’^ the bashful fellow caught his breath, but he did 
manage to utter one word, “Laura.^’ 

About two months after this Jeff and Laura were married. The 
wedding was like any other wedding. Of course, weddings vary 
a little, but in the main they are a great deal like circuses in that, 
“if you have seen one you have seen them all.^’ 

Something must have happened at this wedding a little out of 
the usual, for at one thirty that night an alarm clock did its best 
to give an alarm right under the newly married couple’s bed. Who 
put it there, and who set the alarm for one thirty, will probably 
never be known. 

At the wedding that night were Uncle Ben and Aunt Jane 
Davis from Virginia. Uncle Ben wished to see Texas anyway, 
so he and Aunt Jane decided to “kill two birds with one stone,” 
and timed their visit so as to be at Jeff’s wedding. 

Uncle Ben was carried away with Texas. 

“Why, boy,” he said to Bob Lee, “it’s twice as good as you told 
me; I am going to move here, sure,” 

“Yes, Uncle Ben, Texa& will show for herself, and I did not 
wish to overestimate it. All I was trying to do was to get you to 
come and see for yourself. I knew that you would be pleased not 
only with Texas, but also with the Texans.” 

“Finest people I ever met,” said Uncle Ben enthusiastically, as 
he wandered away to find his new niece, leaving Aunt Jane to 
talk to Bob. 

“Bob,” she said, “from what I hear, since I came to Texas, you 
must have been quite a lady-killer when you were a young man. 
They tell me that you went with all the girls right up to the very 
time that you were married. You must have been a regular fiirt.” 


165 


THE TEXAH 


It was too serious a matter for Bob Lee to joke over. 

^^Ho, Aunt Jane/^ he replied, have many friends among the 
girls, but it is one of the proudest boasts of my life that I never 
deceived a girl and made her believe that I was in love with her 
when 1 w^asnT. I have done many things that were wrong, but 
that is one I never did. Any boy is low down who will lie to a 
girl that way. Merle and I have now been married several years 
and nearly all the girls I went with are married, too; and it is 
one of the most consoling things of my life to know that those 
girls I went with most and who were my best girl friends when 
I was a young man, are to-day among my truest and best friends. 
That shows that I treated them right when I was a young man. 
No, Aunt Jane, Eve done many things I had no business doing, 
and I have always lived half way between the church and the jail 
and hardly knew which one would get me, but deceiving a girl 
about being in love with her is one of the sin? that I will never 
have to answer for.-’^ 

‘^T’m glad to hear that. Bob; I was just joking you anywa 5 ^ I 
hear there are to be quite a number of marriages in Georgetown 
this fall.’^ 

‘^^Yes, I know of several. Aunt Jane, but it is not hard to start 
a report that somebody is going to get married. If all reports of 
marriages were marriages it would break us all up buying wed- 
ding presents. By the way. Aunt Jane, speaking of wedding pres- 
ents, let me tell you what a financier that niece of yours is. When 
Merle and I were married, Mrs. Bullington gave us a cow, a horse 
and a family Bible as presents. It wasn’t long before somebody 
accidentally shot tfie cow and she died. So Merle called for a 
division of her mother’s wedding presents and proposed that she 
would take the horse for her part and give me the family Bible 
for mine. I didn’t accept the proposition, but she accepted it for 
me and sold the horse for $125 and bought bank stock with the 
proceeds. She has been drawing dividends on her bank stock ever 
since and I still have the family Bible. 0, but she is a financier 
all right! If I was that good a financier I’d be a millionaire in 
less than no time.” 

Aunt Jane laughed at Merle’s exhibition of high finance. 

^^Who is that tall man over yonder. Bob?” she asked. 


166 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


‘^That is Jim Patrick. Somebody played a mean trick on him 
not long ago. Jim runs a grocery store and, among other things, 
buys and sells chickens. Out in front of his store he has a little 
portable chicken coop, with his name branded on it, in which he 
keeps the chickens until sold. Whenever the coop is empty he 
leaves it out in front at night. The other night somebody stole 
Jim^s chicken coop and took it out to the south part of town to 
the house of a Swede named Victor Johnson. The thief intended 
to fill the stolen coop with chickens from Victor Johnson^s roost, 
but a chicken squalled and Victor heard him and crowded him so 
close that he had to drop the coop to get away. Next morning 
Victor came to Jim^s store and said: ^Mr. Patrick, I expect you 
had better send out to my house and get your chicken coop. I 
heard you trying to steal my chickens last night and I got after 
you and made you drop your coop and I took the coop and looked 
at it and your name is on it. J. J. Patrick is what it said, and 
it was you, Mr. Patrick; it was you.^ Jim has never yet explained 
to VictoPs satiMaction that he wasn’t the one whom he ran away 
from his chicken roost.” 

Aunt J ane laughed as she thought of the circumstantial evidence 
that Jim had to overcome. 

^^Who is that little man talking to Mr. Patrick?” she asked; 

‘^That’s Theodore Cooper. He doesn’t look very fashionable, 
does he? But he started a new fashion in Georgetown and some 
of his neighbors have adopted it. He is the originator of the red 
bug lawn party.” 

^^What’s that?” Aunt- Jane asked. 

^Ht is a patent way of getting rid of red bugs. Theodore Cooper 
has several children, and he has a beautiful lawn for them to play 
on, but the red bugs got into the grass so thick that they nearly 
ate his children up. A bright idea struck him and he gave a big 
lawn party. His guests carried off so many red bugs that his 
children had peace for some time. Now whenever the red bugs 
get too thick, Theodore Cooper gives another lawn party. It’s a 
scheme all right. It’s tough on the guests, but it’s fine for the 
children.” 

The Sunday morning after Jeff and Laura were married Merle 

167 


THE TEXAN 


surprised Bob Lee by saying: ‘“^Bob, I have thought it all over 
and I am going to join the Baptist church to-day/^ 

It astonished him so that it nearly took his breath. 

^^What for? Are you a Baptist?” he asked. 

^^No, I am as much a Presbyterian in belief as I always was, 
but you are a Baptist and our children are growing up and I think 
it best all the way round for you and me to belong to the same 
church.” 

His reply was not what she had expected. 

“There is no question, Merle, but that it would be best for you 
and me and best for Nellie and John if you and I belonged to the 
same church, if we could conscientiously do so. Although I have 
said nothing to you about it, I would long ago have been willing 
to join the Presbyterian Church with you if I had only been able 
to believe as they do. In fact, I have studied my Bible carefully 
and have read some of their denominational works trying to make 
a Presbyterian out of myself, but I canT, and don't believe as 
they do. You have never heard me say anything against the Pres- 
byterians or any other denomination. Anyone has a perfect right 
to believe whatever he or she may choose; all I ask of anybody 
is to try and inform themselves and then be sincere in whatever 
they believe. Some doctrines that other people believe in seem 
very strange and ridiculous to me, and some that I believe in seem 
very strange and ridiculous to them. I may be right about what 
the Bible teaches, or they may be right, so I let everybody believe 
just what they choose and I claim the same privilege for myself. 
Everybody should read the Bible and use their own judgment as 
to which is the right church, instead of adopting their father’s or 
mother’s judgment or the judgment of some preacher. When they 
do that I certainly have no criticism to offer, no matter what 
church they join. It is none of my business. I am a Baptist be- 
cause I believe that the Baptist Church comes nearer teaching 
exactly what Christ taught than any other church. You are a 
Presbyterian because you think that the Presbyterian Church 
teaches the correct doctrines. You and I have no religious quar- 
rel whatever. You are in the Presbyterian Church where you 
belong; I am in the Baptist Church where I belong. I have no 
right to join the Presbyterian Church unless I am a Presbyterian 


168 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


in belief; you have no right to join the Baptist Church unless 
you are a Baptist in belief. I appreciate very much the fact that 
you wish to join the Baptist Church to be with me, your husband, 
but it wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be doing the Presbyterians 
right to desert them as long as you believe just like they do; and 
it wouldn’t be doing the Baptists just right to deceive them and 
make them believe that you were a Baptist when you are not. But 
the greatest wrong would be to your God, for if you believe that 
the Presbyterian Church is the one that Christ founded here on 
earth you owe it to your God to stay with that church and do all 
you can to help it, until you are convinced that your ideas are 
wrong. Xo^ my dear wife, be true to your God first and to your 
husband afterwards. If you will always be true to your God, your 
husband will never fear but that you will always bo true to him. 
Eead your Bible carefully, and if it makes a Baptist out of you, 
all well and good; but if it doesn’t, don’t go back on the Presby- 
terians, and, worse still, don’t go back on your God.” 

It was nearly a year after this when Merle told him that she was 
ready to join the Baptist Church, and he understood what she 
meant and was so happy that he nearly shouted. 

Bessie Lee is almost grown now, but she is the same old Bess 
that she always was — always making some sort of a mistake and 
always excusing herself for it by claiming that “I just am as I am, 
and I can’t be any ammer.” Her mother calls her ^^Old Blunder- 
buss.” Bess often says, “If all my mistakes were beefsteaks I 
would have a drove of cattle by now.” 

When she was fourteen she became a Christian and tries hard 
to live up to her profession. Soon after she joined the church the 
girls organized a society, “The Gleaners,” I believe they called it. 

Some funny things happened in that society at first. One of 
the girls belonging to it was a telephone operator and the girls 
tell it on her that the first time she was called on to lead the 
prayer it scared her so that the first thing she said -when she got 
down to pray was, “Hello, hello !” I suppose that was the first 
time in the world that our Father in Heaven was ever addressed 
in that way. Of course Bess had to make some mistakes, too. 

Bess became very much interested during one of the meetings 
of the Gleaners when Susie Carothers turned to her and said that 


169 


THE TEXAN 


she thought it would be nice for the Gleaners to go down on the 
creek the following Thursday evening and have a little picnic all 
to themselves. 

^T think so, too,” said Bess enthusiastically. ^‘You make the 
motion, Susie, and I’ll say Amen.” 

Neither girl discovered that that wasn’t the usual way of sec- 
onding a motion until Susie made the motion and Bess jumped 
up and said ^^Amen.” 

But they had the picnic on the next Thursday evening, and 
when they were all seated and ready for supper somebody called 
on Bess to say the “blessing.” It was quite a surprise to her, and 
she never had said the “blessing” before, but she thought it 
wouldn’t be exactly the proper thing to back out, so she bowed 
her head and said, “0 Lord, make us thankful for this food and — 
and — may we do well by it. Amen,” she added as she got scared. 

I thought that after Bob I^ee and Jeff Bullington were both 
married they would settle down and quit playing practical jokes, 
but I don’t believe that they ever will. 

One of the worst tricks I think that they ever played was the 
one they played on the Masons. One night the Masons were going 
to have a big time in Georgetown. There was to be an installa- 
tion of officers, followed by a big supper afterwards, and the lodges 
at Liberty Hill, Corn Hill, and Florence were invited to come 
down and enjoy the occasion. Among other good things that they 
w^ere going to have for supper was an immense bowl of punch. 
They had this bowl of punch made at one of the sodawater stands 
in town and here it was that Bob Lee discovered it. A bright idea 
struck him and he hurried off to Jeff to impart to him the won- 
derful possibilities for fun that were in that big bowl of punch. 
They got some whisky and slipped around and spiked that bowl 
of punch. 

The Masons, you know, are as fine a body of people as you’ll 
find anywhere and not used to drinking whisky, consequently a 
little goes a long ways. 

The unsuspecting Masons drank a good deal of that punch be- 
fore they found out that it was spiked. When they did find, it 
out, it was too late for some of them, and the capers that they cut 
would have made a dog laugh. 


170 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


Good old Deacon McCarty couldn’t hit the ground with his hat. 
Some one facetiously remarked that every time he tried it he threw 
up (?) instead of down. 

It was Bob and Jetf who engineered the scheme whereby old man 
Shell’s bulldog was elected justice of the peace. Nobody wished 
to be justice of the peace, and an old ignorant fellow named Ball 
had been holding the office for several years just because nobody 
else would have it. 

^^Squire Ball” was wholly incompetent and most folks thought 
he was dishonest. Everybody was tired of him, yet nobody would 
run against him. 

At last election day came around, the justice of the peace was 
the only officer to be elected, and nobody was running against 
^^Squire Ball.” Consequently nobody took any interest in the 
election and up to five o’clock only twenty-eight votes had been 
polled. Just before the polls closed here came a crowd of thirty- 
two voters and every one of them rubbed out the name of ^^Squire 
Ball” and wrote, ^^Old Man Shell’s bulldog” on their tickets, and 
when the votes were counted ^^Squire Ball” had twenty-eight votes, 
but “Old Man Shell’s bulldog” had thirty-two votes and was duly 
and constitutionally elected justice of the peace. 


171 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


^^Bob, don’t yon want to go fishing to Marble Falls about next 
Tuesday?” said Sam Brown to Bob Lee one day. 

‘^You know me/’ replied Bob. ^^Wbo is going?” 

^Meff can’t get away from the store, but Allen and Whittle 
and John Coffee and Johnson all want to go; and Brack Salyer 
wants to go if he can get off; and yon know Ed Cbreitzberg is 
going if he has to walk.” 

‘^‘Well, they are all good fellows, and that will make a dandy 
crowd. If that crowd doesn’t have a good time no other crowd 
need try. Who’ll cook for ns?” 

‘^Old Bill McKenzie says he will go, and Bill is a good cook.” 

“Count on me,” said Bob, and the two separated. 

Next Monday morning the fishing crowd met and each one made 
a list of the things which he was to carry. Monday evening each 
one brought his things to Johnson’s store, where they were all 
packed in boxes and loaded on the two hacks that were to carry 
the party to Leander. Bill McKenzie was sent off with instruc- 
tions to dig a big bucketful of worms for bait, and the crowd 
separated. 

Tuesday morning by daylight all were at John Coffee’s livery 
stable. 

“All aboard for Leander,” said Brack Salyer, and they were off 
to catch the nine o’clock train. 

“I’d uhip Pat Goodlett if I lived over here,” said Sam Brown, 
as they were passing through the west portmn of Georgetown. 

“Why?” asked Johnson. 

“Because he lives over here and he calls this portion of the town 
^Grasshopper Towm,’ because he says that when a woman over here 
hears any piece of scandal she just hops and hops like a grass- 
hopper from one house to another until she has told it to all the 
women in the neighborhood. Besides that he claims that all the 
female children who have been bom over here in the last ten years 
have been born with a crook on their first finger.” 

^^hat’s that for?” asked Brack Salyer. 

“Pat says that their mothers before them all have the same 


172 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


crook on their first finger and that it is caused by holding the 
handle of a teacup so much as they go from house to house to bor- 
row coffee, sugar, etc., from their neighbors.^^ 

^‘Wait a minit till I gits dat rabbit. He will make good catfish 
bait,” said Bill McKenzie as a Molly cottontail rabbit hopped 
across the road. 

Allen handed Bill the target gun. Bill soon had his ^^catfish 
bait” and the horses trotted up to catch up with the front hack. 

Yonder is old man Bell’s place,” said Johnson. “Did you 
ever hear anybody tell about what old Mrs. Bell did to that crowd 
of boys from Georgetown which went up to Marble Falls fishing 
last year? Well, it was rich. I don’t know just who was in the 
crowd, but I know that Ollie Purl and Charlie Cameron were. 
The boys were trying to catch the train at Leander, just like we 
are, and one of their horses got sick and they found out that they 
could not get to Leander in time for the train, so they decided 
to stop at old man Bell’s for breakfast. Like boys will they were 
guying old lady Bell about the breakfast, and asking, her if she 
couldn’t get them all sorts of impossible things — prairie chicken, 
fish, wild turkey, etc. Finally they told her that they would be 
perfectly satisfied if she would cook them a rabbit. The old lady 
seemed to take the guying good naturedly, and when breakfast 
was served, much to the surprise of all, there was a dish of rabbit 
on the table, of which all ate heartily except Charlie Cameron. 
He did not seem to care for rabbit. Breakfast over and all on 
their way to Leander again, Charlie opened up his masked battery. 
He said: ^Boys, you all seemed to like Mrs. Bell’s rabbit pretty 
well.’ finest rabbit I ever tasted,’ said Ollie Purl. ^Mrs. Bell 
surely knows how to fry rabbit.’ Charlie began to laugh, and the 
more he thought of what he was going to say the more he laughed, 
^What do you mean by laughing so, Charlie?’ asked Ollie. They 
finally got him quieted down enough to answer, and he said: 
^Boys, you never noticed it, but I did not eat any rabbit, and I’ll 
tell you why. Did you see that old sore-eyed black cat when we 
got to Bell’s? Well, you did not see it after breakfast, did you? 
You know Mrs. Bell did not have any rabbit caught and did not 
have time to catch one after we came. I’ll tell you what happened. 
We guyed her so much that she got mad and she didn’t do a thing 

173 


THE TEXAH 


to us but cook that old cat and call it rabbit. That was fried cat 
you had for breakfast instead of fried rabbit.'’ The boys don’t 
know until this day whether Charlie was lying or not, but they 
say that Charlie was the only one in the crowd whose breakfast 
stayed with him. Ask Ollie Purl to-day how he likes fried cat and 
he will turn sick at the stomach.” 

“We won’t take breakfast at old man Bell’s to-day,” said John 
Coffee. Strange to say nobody disagreed with him. 

A couple of miles farther on the two hacks stopped at a little 
spring by the roadside and the crowd got out to eat a hasty snack 
which had been prepared before they left home. 

“I like this fried chicken better, I believe, than I would like 
fried rabbit,” said Sam Brown, and Ed Chreitzberg looked dag- 
gers at him and threw his chicken bone away. 

“I move that we elect Allen treasurer of this crowd,” said Brack 
Salyer, which motion was duly put and carried unanimously. 

“I move that we elect Whittle official liar of the crowd,” said 
Bob Lee. ' 

“I second the motion,” came the quick response from the bal- 
ance of the crowd. Whittle himself moved to make it unanimous. 

1 think that Whittle must have felt something like Sarah Jones 
did in church meeting when they had her father up in church for 
drinking. When the Moderator called for everybody who wanted 
to expel Brother Jones to rise and everybody rose except Sarah, 
she, seeing the situation, rose also, saying to the girl next to her, 
“I move to make it unanimous; the old rascal ought to have been 
turned out long ago.” 

Now let me do Whittle justice. He isn’t one of these plain, 
everyday kind of liars at all, but he was fonder of a practical joke 
than any man you ever saw, and to carry it out he had the repu- 
tation of being able to tell a lie with a straighter face than any 
man in Georgetown. 0, he was an artist in his line, and stood in 
a class all by himself. You ought not to blame Johnson either 
when he voted the loudest to make Whittle the official liar, because 
Johnson had been the victim of one of Whittle’s practical jokes. 
I’]l tell you about it. 

Johnson ran a grain store in Georgetown, and one day, having 
to step out of the store for a few minutes, he asked Whittle (who 

174 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


happened to be in the store) to look after it for him for a few 
minutes. Johnson had just gone when an old farmer from up in 
the sticks walked into the store and asked for some sacked oats. 
Whittle acting proprietor sold the old farmer five sacks of oats, 
but the rats and mice had cut two of the sacks so badly that the 
oats were losing out. ‘^Why donT you get you some cats in here 
and catch those mice and rats?’^ asked the old farmer, and an 
idea struck Whittle. Holding a perfectly straight face he said: 
‘T wish I did have some cats in here, it would save me many a 
dollar, but I can’t get a single cat. I’ve even tried to buy some 
cats, but I can’t get a one.” 

The old farmer took the bait like a trout. ^^Why, I’ve six or 
eight cats at home myself that I haven’t any use for ; I’ll sell them 
to you,” and Whittle soon closed the trade whereby the old farmer 
sold him six cats at fifty cents each, to be delivered at the grain 
store the following week, Whittle telling the old farmer that he 
owned the store and that his name was Johnson. Whittle and 
Johnson look somewhat alike and to the old dim-eyed farmer who 
had never seen either of them before one might easily have been 
mistaken for the other. Of course, Johnson knew nothing of this 
cat trade, but the next week the old farmer came with his six cats, 
each cat in a different sack to keep them from fighting. 

^^Here are your cats, Mr. Johnson,” said he as he drove up to 
the grain store. 

^^What do you mean? What are you talking about?” asked the 
innocent Johnson. 

^‘Why here are those six cats that I sold you last week when 
I was here,” replied the old farmer. 

’Twasn’t me ; ’twas somebody else ; I didn’t buy any cats,” re- 
plied the astonished Johnson. 

^Tsn’t your name Johnson, and don’t you run this grain store?” 
asked the old dim-eyed farmer, getting madder and madder every 
minute. 

^^Yes, my name is Johnson, and I run this grain store; but I 
buy grain and not cats,” replied Johnson, getting warm under the 
collar himself. 

^^Well, then, I sold you these cats and you have got to take them. 


175 


THE TEXAH 


too. You town fellows are always trying to get np some way to 
beat us poor farmers.^^ 

To make a long story short, the old farmer told Johnson that 
he had better not ’make any more trades if he woul dn’t stand to 
them, and left as mad as he could be. But he turned all six cats 
loose in Johnson’s store before he left; said he wanted to make 
Johnson a present of them. 0, what irony! Johnson did not 
know for some time just what to think about the cat question, but 
one day when Whittle stepped in at the front door and said : 
^Mohnson, can’t I sell you some cats to-day?” he recognized at 
once the author of his cat troubles. So you ought not to blame 
Johnson when he voted loudest to make Whittle the official liar 
of that crowd. 

“Isn’t that Dick Moore’s place over yonder ?” asked Ed Chreitz- 
berg. 

“What about it ?” asked Allen. 

“Nothing, except that he was the one who years ago ^swapped 
wives with John Eankin, and both got sent to the penitentiary 
for it.” 

“If I owed a man five liars and he did not take you for the 
whole bunch, I never would pay him,” said Allen. 

“I love a liar, but I hate a fool; I am just dead stuck on you, 
Ed,” said Sam Brown. 

“But I am not lying,” said Ed. “Years ago they lived away out 
here in the sticks by themselves and their family relations were 
not of the best. Neither one could get along with his wife, so 
they decided to swap wives, but Dick Moore wouldn’t swap even 
because Mrs. Moore was better looking and could do more work 
than Mrs. Eankin, so he made Eankin give him a yearling, three 
rows of corn and a bushel of Irish potatoes to boot. But the 
officers got wind of it and sent both Moore and Eankin to the 
penitentiary.” 

Breakfast was soon over. Leander was soon reached. The 
hacks were unloaded and sent home. The train came in in a few 
minutes, and all got aboard. 

By eleven o’clock the train rolled into Marble Falls, the baggage 
was unloaded and put on a wagon, provisions for the camp were 
bought in town and before noon everything and everybody were 


176 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


unloaded about a mile below town at ^^The Fish Trap’^ close to 
the big spring, and Bob Lee was duly elected ^^camp boss.” 

Everybody got busy. Some of the boys made a dining table; 
some dug a hole to put the ice in, and the rest put up the tent, 
and by the time the cook had dinner ready the camp was in ship- 
shape. 

Here free from care this jolly crowd spent ten days — fishing, 
swimming, cracking jokes at each otheFs expense, telling yarns, 
singing, reading, playing dominoes. V\l sum it all up in one sen- 
tence by saying that they were having a good time every minute 
of the time. 

The town was so close that somebody walked in every day for 
the mail and daily papers and to get any extra groceries^ and often 
friends from town would come out and take dinner or supper at 
the camp. 

Ed Chreitzberg and Brack Salyer started out by vowing that 
they were not goilig to get hungry while in camp and faithfully 
did they keep that vow, for in season and out of season, the first 
at the table and the last to leave, they hardly had time to fish 
because they had to eat; and I’m not sure that they did not take 
something to eat with them when they went to bed at night. They 
didn’t throw off on that eating job, not a bit. 

The very first night the crowd was in camp the fun began. 
J ohn Coffee had agreed to furnish the tent for the crowd and when 
it was put up some one remarked that it seemed rather thin, and 
that if it should rain hard while the crowd was in camp that they 
would probably all get wet. 

^^0, the tent is all right,” John replied. bought it at an 
auction sale and was surprised when I found it was made of only 
seven-ounce duck. But it is all right and it will turn the water no 
matter how hard it rains. If it rains very hard it may spatter a 
little, but that’s all.” 

That night a thunderstorm came up, and for about an hour it 
looked like the bottom had fallen out of the sky and let the water 
through. Did that tent ^^spatter”? 0, yes, it ^^spattered.” Ask 
anybody who was there and they will tell you that more water 
fell on the inside of that tent than on the outside. They all firmly 
believe that it rained in the tent and leaked on the outside. 


177 


THE TEXAN 


^^This tent is spattering, John/^ was suggested to poor John so 
often and so incessantly that he vowed that he never would furnish 
another tent for that crowd. 

Johnson and Allen were a little sick, and to see them sitting 
up on the inside of the tent holding umbrellas over themselves and 
trying to keep dry would have made anybody in the world laugh 
except John Coffee, and I believe that he grinned a little himself. 
Everybody but the sick men got as wet as drowned rats, but that 
didnT matter, for, after the rain was over a big fire was built up 
and everybody dried out. But John Coffee sold his tent for half 
price to a farmer in Marble Falls, saying he did not want to own 
a tent that ^^spattered’^ so. The tent is gone, but I don’t suppose 
John ever will hear the last of that ^^spattering” tent. 

The second day after the rain he got even with Bob Lee. Bob 
is a man who never took a drink in his life — whisky, beer, or any- 
thing of that sort — but his physical appearance ^vould denote just 
the opposite, for he was heavy set and had a stomach on him that 
would have passed muster anywhere for that of an habitual beer 
drinker. All the boys in camp knew that he wouldn’t drink, for 
they had seen him tried, both at home and in camp. 

As the weather was hot some of the boys in camp had some bot- 
tled beer on ice, and having met a Mr. Curtis while fishing down 
on the river they had invited him up to camp to get a cold bottle. 
Bob Lee fished longer that day than the others, but at last con- 
cluded that it was time for dinner, quit and sauntered slowly into 
camp. He had been camping just long enough to get his fishing 
clothes good and dirty and his old straw hat had a hole in it, 
through which Old Sol had peeped just enough to sunburn his 
face good and he looked decidedly tough. Mr. Curtis saw all this 
and immediately concluded that Bob Lee was the champion drink- 
ing man of the crowd — he picked him for a sure winner, and he 
put his thoughts into words, too, when he said : ^T’ll bet that old 
fat boy yonder kills the booze.” 

‘^That’s a good one on Bob Lee,” shouted John Coffee; and 
Brack Salyer almost died, that is, if anybody can die laughing. 

^^What’s the matter?” asked Bob Lee. 

John Coffee blurted out: ^^0, nothing, except Mr. Curtis here 
has picked you as a winner as the champion booze fighter of the 


178 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


bunch. Meet Mr. Curtis, old fat boy/^ and Mr. Curtis and Bob 
Lee shook hands. And then the boys explained to Mr. Curtis that 
Bob Lee was the only one in the crowd who had never tasted either 
whisky or beer. 

“Don’t know whether the joke is on me or Mr. Lee/’ said Mr. 
Curtis, as he joined the general laugh which went around. 

“Is it a fact. Bob, that you never took a drink in your life?” 
asked Allen. 

“Yes, it is a fact. I guess I am about as much of a teetotaler 
as they ever get to be, for not a drop of whisky, beer, or even 
cider has ever gone down my throat. Neither have I ever smoked 
or chewed, and I don’t drink coffee or tea. Don’t you think that 
that is going some as a teetotaler?” 

“It surely is,” Ed Chreitzberg broke in; “but do you mean that 
you never in your life took any whisky as medicine even?” 

“No, I never have taken a drop even as medicine. I know the 
doctors, especially those who like whisky themselves, often pre-. 
scribe it and say that it is a fine medicine. I don’t deny it, yet 
I seriously doubt if they couldn’t get something that would do just 
as well in most cases.” 

“You deserve a lot of credit for not drinking,” said Sam Brown. 

“Not a bit,” he answered, “for I have never had any temptation 
to drink. I have no hereditary desire to drink, and even as a boy 
I saw what whisky did for some of my very best friends and I 
concluded then that it was a pretty good thing to let alone. I 
have never seen whisky do anybody any good yet, and if I had my 
way there wouldn’t be a drop of it in the world. Don’t you boys 
think that I am knocking on you for drinking your beer, though. 
I know that you are warm and that ice cold beer tastes good to 
you, and that is your business and not mine. I know that drink- 
ing beer like you boys are is not going to hurt anybody because none 
of you are going to drink it to excess. Where beer does harm is 
where a man makes a hog of himself about it. I know men, and 
you do, too, who, no matter what subject you start, won’t talk to 
you five minutes before they will mention beer. A man like that 
has got to the point where his beer is hurting him, whether he 
realizes it or not. If I had thought that there was one in this 
crowd who would drink more than he ought to I wouldn’t be here. 


179 


THE TEXAN 


In a hunting crowd it is dangerous, and in any crowd it is thor- 
oughly disgusting to me. But most of you boys have been out 
with me before and you know that whenever any beer is taken 
along I always pay for my part of the beer. Because I don^t drink 
any of it is no reason why I shouldn’t pay for my part of it. It’s 
a part of the crowd’s expenses, and I am one of the crowd. Maybe 
some one else in the crowd doesn’t like molasses and yet I’d think 
him rather small if for that reason he should refuse to pay for his 
part of the molasses. I have some good friends who drink like 
fish and are anti-prohibitionists both in principle and in practice, 
especially in practice, and they have as much right to their opin- 
ion as I have to mine, but I am not going out camping with them. 
I’ve sometimes told them privately that I think that they drink too 
much, and in almost every instance they ha.ve appreciated it and 
thanked me for it. Poor fellows, they are still good men and are 
my friends, although whisky is their master. Whisky will ruin 
any good man if he will just stay with it long enough. I feel 
sorry for any man who has whisky for a master.” 

^^Well,” said Mr. Curtis, ‘‘1 never saw you before in my life, 
but I’ll bet that you are not one of that kind of prohibitionists 
who shout for prohibition in public and keep a jug for their own 
private use at home.” 

^^Mr. Curtis,” said Bob Lee, believe that a man isn’t much 
of a man unless he tries to live up to what he believes is right. 
Yet at the same time I don’t believe that I am what you would 
call a fool prohibitionist because I recognize the fact that those 
who differ with me on the subject have just as much right to their 
opinion as I have to mine. I don’t fall out with any anti-pro- 
hibitionist, but I think that some of them ought to tell the truth 
about it, and not give many and various reasons why they are anti- 
prohibitionists when the true reason why four-fifths of the anti- 
prohibitionists are antis is because they love whisky themselves and 
want it handy so that they can get it easily. They have a right 
to want their whisky. I’ll go further and say that where there is 
no local option or prohibition law violated I believe that any man 
has just as much right to take a drink as I have to keep from it, 
until he interferes with somebody’s rights. Where the trouble comes 
in is, that the drinking man rarely ever drinks long or much be- 


180 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


fore he gets to infringing on the rights of others — his em- 
ployer’s, his wife’s, his children’s, or the rights of the com- 
munity at large. His moderate drinking is perhaps nobody’s 
business, but by his own act of excessive drinking he makes 
it somebody else’s by infringing on somebody else’s rights. You 
know people will differ about things, and people will look 
at things differently. For instance, just last Christmas Miss 
Agnes Ludlow, who teaches the infant class in Sunday school in a 
near-by town, received a bottle of wine on the Christmas tree as a 
gift from her little Swiss Sunday school scholar. Her little scholar 
thought that bottle of wine was the most appropriate gift that she 
could offer her Sunday school teacher, and thus she showed her 
love; but they say that if good old Brother French, the pastor, 
finds it out, that that good old man may throw conniption fits 
backwards at the idea of one of his Sunday school teachers getting 
a bottle of wine on the Christmas tree. Just the other day my 
cook, who is a sixteen-year-old Dutch girl, said to my wife, that 
her father certainly was good to her because on her last birthday 
he gave her a keg of beer. The father and daughter evidently 
looked at that gift differently. The daughter felt that she had a 
good father because he gave her a keg of beer for a birthday pres- 
ent, while the father probably figured out that he would fall heir 
to the whole keg with the loss of but a very small quantity. So 
it all depends on how you look at a thing, and I always try to 
realize that I haven’t any copyrighted monopoly on all the correct 
opinions there are in the world. Let the other fellow have his 
opinion. He has a right to it.” 

Before the time came to break camp nearly every man in camp 
had had some good joke perpetrated on him. 

‘^Watch me kill that mosquito on Allen’s forehead,” said Whit- 
tle one morning at breakfast, as he grabbed up a slice of light 
bread, and made such a good shot with it that he killed the 
mosquito. After that Allen went by the name of ^^Mosquito.” 
He was a good healthy one, weighing one hundred and sixtv 
pounds. 

elohnson and Ed Chreitzberg were responsible for the literal 
downfall of Brack Salyer. They had been to Marble Falls fishing 
before, and in seining for minnows had found a place in the river 

181 


THE TEXAH 


where you would be seining along in water knee deep and 
suddenly step off into a hole over your head. As the river water is 
muddy you couldnT see the step-oft, and as it was close to town 
you had to keep on your clothes while seining and roll up your 
trousers. 

Ed Chreitzberg and Johnson decided that Brack should go off 
into this hole. So they got the unsuspecting Brack to hold one 
end of the minnow seine while Johnson held the other and Ed 
Chreitzberg carried the minnow bucket. In the meantime they 
steered Brack straight for the hole. The maneuver was a com- 
plete success and over his head and out of sight poor Brack soon 
went. Brack never was a beauty, and when he got out of that 
hole of water there was no beauty show in the world in which he 
would have taken first prize, even if he had been the only exhibitor. 
He smelled a rat and was rather inclined to wet Ed Chreitzberg 
and Johnson, too, but they were so very solicitous about his getting 
wet, hoping that he wouldn’t catch cold, etc., that they disarmed 
his suspicions and he let them off. 

It was hard for them to keep their faces straight until they got 
back into camp and Brack got on dry clothes; and then what fun 
they did have telling how Brack had “discovered” (?) that hole in 
the river bed. 

The boys even got a joke on old Bill McKenzie, the negro cook, 
when Bob Evans, who is a crack shot, brought his target rifle down 
to camp. Old Bill was down at the river cleaning fish and smok- 
ing his old, loud-smelling corncob pipe, when Bob discovered him. 
He was standing sideways to Bob and his old pipe was in full view. 

“Watch me knock that pipe out of that negro’s mouth,” said 
Bob. 

“Don’t try it. Bob,” said Bob Lee, “you might hurt him.” 

It did look like a foolhardy thing to do. But in reality it was 
not, for Bob Evans got a tree exactly between him and old Bill 
so that he could see only Bill’s pipe, took deliberate aid, and pulled 
the trigger. 

“0 Lord, I’se dead !” groaned old Bill as his pipe went flying 
into a number of pieces and he went over backwards. 

“Why didn’t somebody let me know that Bill was down there? 


182 


A TAIvE OF TEXAS 


I came near shooting him exclaimed the seemingly excited Bob 
Evans. 

‘T shore thoT I was dead dat time, boss,^^ said Old Bill as he 
sheepishly picked himself np. 

“For the Lord sake, Mistah Evans, please look and see where 
Old Bill is every time before you shoot.^^ 

Bob Evans promised to never shoot again until he had first 
looked for Bill, roundly berated himself for being so careless and 
to show that he was willing to do the right thing gave Old Bill 
a dollar and money enough to buy a new pipe. 

Old Bill seemed pacified, but the next time that Bob Evans 
came to camp with his rifle he took a sudden notion to immediately 
go down the river to fish. 

“Mistah Evans is too reckless wid dat gun; I^se feared to be 
round him,^^ he explained to Bob Lee next day. 

On the very day that the crowd broke camp Whittle caught his 
catfish. Now it was just a plain, little, old, common, everyday 
catfish, probably weighing a pound and a half or possibly two 
pounds. In fact there wasn’t anything at all singular about it, 
except the way it grew as the crowd came home. 

Whittle seemed to think that he hadn’t been doing enough to 
sustain his reputation as the proper person to occupy the position 
to which he had been unanimously elected. At the depot in Mar- 
ble Falls he was overheard to tell Mr. Badger that he had caught 
a nice ten-pound catfish that morning; at Leander he told Sant 
Jennings that the fish were biting fine at Marble Falls, and that 
he had himself landed a nice twenty-five-pound catfish. Between 
Leander and home we met “Peach” Morelle, and Whittle had the 
hack stopped until he had informed “Peach” that he had landed 
a forty or fifty-pound catfish at Marble Falls that morning. 0, 
how that fish did grow ! As the distance from Marble Falls in- 
creased that catfish seemed to increase in weight in geometrical 
proportions, and had Greorgetown been ten miles farther off I am 
sure that by the time he reached home Whittle would have had 
that catfish weighing a hundred pounds at least. 


183 


CHAPTER XXX. 


Don’t think that in portraying the life of Bob Lee, the Texan, 
I consider him a perfect character. Not by any means, because 
I am only giving yon what I believe to be his good points. His 
faults, and they are many, I have taken the author’s privilege 
to omit. 

A witness before our courts is sworn “To tell the truth, the 
whole tyuth, and nothing but the truth,” but I am not a witness, 
so I am not compelled to tell the whole truth, and as the reading 
public desires a faultless hero I have taken the privilege of hiding 
most of his faults by conveniently forgetting to record them. As 
a matter of fact, everybody does not like Bob Lee. Some people 
dislike him very much. You never saw any man who tried to be 
anybody or had anything, who did not have his enemies. 

“If everybody likes you, it is a sure sign that you are no ac- 
count,” Bob Lee says; and yet I don’t think that I ever saw a 
man who craves more the good opinion of his fellowman than he 
does. 

He always speaks to everyone he meets, both white and black, 
and for that reason has not often been accused of being stuck-up. 
He is especially the friend of the children. He loves them, and 
they love him. They all know him and he always has a crowd of 
them around him. It doesn’t take a child long to find out who 
loves it. 

You would never get him to mention any deeds of kindness that 
he had done, but in reality he is a very charitable man. His purse 
strings are always open to the calls of the poor and needy, although 
he realizes that oftentimes some people would not be half so poor 
if they were not so lazy. It is a wonder, too, that he is charitable 
and not hard and close-fisted, after some of the experiences of his 
life. But his heart seems to be so full of sympathy for the poor 
that he tries to do what is right towards them. 

Some of his methods of helping the poor are unique and are 
just about what you might expect ^from such a man. For instance, 
I never heard of it being done by anybody before, but I know 
that in the local Burial Association he paid the initiation fees of 


184 


A T-ALE OF TEXAS 


a number of poor people, and for a long time regularly paid their 
dues. Of course, these poor people never knew it and never will. 

‘‘DonT you tell anybody,’^ said he to the agent of the Burial 
Association, ^^and I am sure that 1^11 not, because some of these 
folks would get angry if they knew it. But all the same it would 
be mighty handy for their folks to have a coffin already paid for 
in case any of these should happen to die.^^ 

Another way he has is to get a blank envelope, print the name 
of some needy person on it, put inside a five or ten dollar bill, and 
without any writing anywhere, send it through the mail. 

‘^Can’t get mad at anybody and send it back, because they doffit 
know who to send it to,” he says. 

One of his favorite ways is to buy a sack full of groceries and 
after dark tie the sack to some poor widow’s door knob, knock at 
the door and then disappear before the door can be opened. 

There is another thing that I like about Bob Lee, and that is 
that you never hear him say anything harmful about anyone. I 
think that he has a better reason, though, for it than the one he 
gives, for he says : ^^The reason that I don’t criticize other people 
is because I might be talking to some of their kinfolks and might 
get a licking before I could explain. I’m afraid of anything that 
I can’t outrun, anyway.” 

He has about half a dozen old people in the town on his visiting 
list — somebody’s grandfathers and grandmothers. Once a month 
at least he tries to go and see these. 

“Some old folks are enjoying poor health,” he says, “and they 
always feel better after they have told somebody about their many 
ailments. Old folks nearly always feel neglected, too, and often 
are; and, bless their old souls, I don’t mind it if they do always 
get after me for not coming oftener every time I go to see them. 
When I am going away anywhere and go to bid them good-bye, 
^God bless you,’ they say, and I feel that God will hear the prayer 
of their dear old hearts and keep me from dangers, seen and un- 
seen. Their appreciation of what little I do for them, their love 
and their prayers far more than repay me for what little time I 
spend in visiting the old folks. God bless the old folks, I say; 
I love them !” 

A great many men keep all their religion in their wife’s name. 


185 


THE TEXAN 


but it isnT so with Bob Lee. Merle Lee, the wife of the Texan, 
is a noble character herself. 

H donT brag on her much in public,” said Bob to me one day. 
^‘^ThaLs too much like bragging on yourself; and then I have 
noticed that those couples who call each other dioney’ and ^sweet- 
heart,^ and such things in public generally fight and scratch like 
cats and dogs at home. 

‘‘My wife has her faults, just like you and me, and everybody 
else, but she suits me. She is a good Christian, a good wife, and 
a good mother. Ought not that to be enough for anybody? I 
ought to be very happy,” he continued, “and I am, because not 
only my wife but also my little girl Nellie and my boy John do 
all they can to make my home a happy one. Nellie and John are 
obedient children. I don’t think there is anything too good for 
an obedient child.” 


18G 


CHAPTIlR XXXI. 


Here, surrounded by his friends and in his happy home, let us 
bid good-bye to the Texan and leave him to fight out the battle 
of life as he sees it. But before we go let me tell you what he 
said to me one day not long ago. 

We were talking on our favorite theme of Texas and the Texans 
and how proud we were that we were Texans, and that Texas was 
^^Our own, our native land,” when suddenly he turned to me and 
said : 

^^Why donT you write a book about Texas?” 

In my astonishment I blurted out: ‘‘Why, Why? What in the 
world do I wish to write a book for? I never did, and don’t know 
how.” 

His face was very serious as he answered: “You and I are 
native Texans. We love Texas dearly, and we feel that she is not 
thought of by the people of the other States as she should be, 
simply because they don’t know the truth about her. You and I 
have spoken of this often, and often have we grieved over it. 
Texas is very dear to us. Here we were born, grew to man’s estate, 
married, reared our families, and here in the soil of our beloved 
State will we at last be buried — Texas is, and ought to be, very 
dear to us both. Don’t you think you owe it to your native State, 
which we love so well, to, as far as you can, give her the place 
among her sister States which she deserves ? Somebody ought to 
write such a book. Why not you?” 

What he said affected me deeply, for I do love Texas and I real- 
ized that what he said was true. Yet I felt so wholly incompetent 
to do what he wished that I told him that for me it was an im- 
possibility. 

“Such a hook ought to be written,” said I, “but I can’t write it; 
why don’t you ?” 

“I would try my best to do so if no one else would,” he answered, 
“if I could possibly spare the time. But you know that I have 
to make a living for my family and can’t spare the time. For 
years I have been looking for someone to write such a book, and 
no one else will ; why not you ? Do the best you can,” he piteously 


187 


THE TEXAN 


pleaded, as he saw me begin to weaken a little; ^‘^perhaps yon can’t 
do much, and perhaps your book wouldn’t pay you financially, but 
it does need doing so badly, and no one else will do it. You have 
the time, please disregard your feelings of incompetency and do 
the best 5^ou can for the sake of dear old Texas.” 

I could scarcely stand an appeal like that and the tear that stood 
in his eye at the close of it made it all the harder for me to bear. 
And as we stood facing each other I felt that I must give in. My 
own heart was full and, immersed in deep thought, for a moment 
I stood there with my eyes on the ground, but all at once the feel- 
ing of my incompetency to write a book like that seemed to over- 
whelm me and I shook my head and silently walked away. 

I well knew the bulldog tenacity of the Texan, and I well knew 
that he would not take ^^no” for an answer. 

For several days I kept away from him. But go where I would, 
and do what I might, I could not get away from “Somebody ought 
to write such a book,” “No one else will,” “Why not you?” “For 
the sake of dear old Texas.” 

Those very words haunted me; they burdened me. Slowly but 
surely did the conviction come that, whether I wished to or not, 
“For the sake of dear old Texas,” I must do my best to write 
just such a book as the Texan wished, if no one else would. 

No one knows how I shrank from the task, and how much I would 
have given to have felt competent to write such a book. 

The day after my decision I was walking down the street when 
the Texan came driving by. 

“I am exercising my horse; jump in and let’s take a spin,” he 
said. I crawled into his buggy and away we went, and I well knew 
what was coming. But he said nothing about the book until we 
stopped at the spring in the grove by “Uncle” Jonas Shell’s. 

“Well,” said he, ^fiiow about the book?” 

“Bob,” I replied, “there are many difficulties in the way of 
writing a book like you wish me to write, and the first and fore- 
most difficulty is that I don’t know how to write a book, and much 
less do I know how to write the particular kind of a book which 
you wish. I am sure I would be able to prove that by my critics 
after the book was written. However, I see no way out of it, and 
I have about decided to do the best I can. As you know I never 


188 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


wrote a book, and if I write one to please yon I will expect yon 
to help me some. For instance, what place shonld I have for the 
scene of the book?^’ 

“WhaEs the matter with Georgetown?^’ he replied. ‘^She’s all 
right. Georgetown has some of the prettiest scenery aronnd it of 
any place in Texas, and as for characters, there are a number of 
people here who are pecnliar and who wonld make fine characters 
in a book.” 

^'As for the scenery,” I answered, ^^yon are certainly speaking 
the trnth. Either in Texas or in any other State yon will not 
find more beantifnl scenery than there is aronnd Georgetown, and 
as varied; bnt really it mnst be seen to be fnlly appreciated, for 
no description will do it jnstice. As for the pecnliar people aronnd 
Georgetown, there is no qnestion bnt that there is plenty of mate- 
rial here to make fine characters for a novel, bnt the tronble is 
that I could not nse a single one of those pecnliar characters in 
my book, for the very practical reason that I conldn’t afford to 
do so. Xo one wishes to be told of their pecnliarities, and mnch 
less wonld they wish to see those same pecnliarities made mnch of 
in print. Did yon ever think of that?” 

^^No,” he said, haven’t, bnt yon are right abont it. Do yon 
think yon will be able to make any money ont of yonr book?” he 
added. 

^^Xo,” I replied, don’t. If I don’t lose any I shall be per- 
fectly satisfied. If it were only for the money that I wonld expect 
to make ont of it I most certainly wonldn’t write it. Bnt I wonld 
have two objects in view in writing. One of them wonld be this: 
Yon know that I am a native-born Texan and love Texas and the 
character of the majority of the Texans. Yon also know that I 
have been fortnnate enongh to have traveled all over the United 
States, Mexico and Canada, and I find that the people of the other 
States are nearly all interested in Texas and the Texans. It wonld 
probably not be strictly trne to say that “the eyes of the world are 
on Texas,” and yet it wonld be almost the tmth to say that the 
eyes of the United States are on Texas. Yet I serionsly donbt if 
there is a State in the Union of which the people ontside know as 
little abont that is trne, as is known abont Texas. 

“And as for the general character of the Texans nine ont of ten 


189 


THE TEXAN 


people in the other States have an entire misconception of their 
true character. They are not entirely to blame for this either, 
for two reasons. One is that while Texas was a Eepnblic, she was 
the harbor for the majority of the thieves and the cnt-throats from 
the United States. Texas got the name of being about the tough- 
est place on earth and deserved it, too; and a great many people 
still hold that opinion of the State and of her people. The second 
reason is that most of the writers who even now write tales of 
Texas have never seen Texas. You and I can tell by reading their 
stories how very ridiculous and untruthful they are, and yet most 
of their readers think that they are true. Between the hard name 
Texas got and deserved as a Eepublic and the ridiculous things 
that the yellow journal writers have said about her during the past 
forty years, the average citizen of the other States knows everything 
about Texas except the truth. 

^‘^You know that a certain Northern general once said: Tf I 
owned Texas and hell I would rent out Texas and live in hell.’ 
If he was alive now I would tell him that it was not surprising to 
me that the Devil should prefer hell to any other place, but as he 
is dead I will say nothing about him, only to say that at the time 
he said what he did about Texas, he was a great deal more ex- 
cusable for saying it than he would be if he should say it now. 

^^To correct as far as I could the wrong impressions that the 
people in general have of Texas to-day would be the main object 
of my book. 1 am also anxious to make Texans themselves love 
Texas more. 

^‘You and I know that Texas and the Texan of to-day are not 
what Texas and the Texan of fifty years ago were. It is true that 
the Texans of fifty years ago had some very fine points in their 
cliaracters that I fear the present Texans do not possess, and yet, 
in the main, I fully believe that the present Texan is a much finer 
character. You and I know that the reign of the sixshooter and 
of the rowdy in Texas is a thing of the past, but the majority of 
the people of the other States do not know that this is true, for 
the reasons that I have given you. A New Yorker told me not 
long since, that if his wife knew that he was down in Texas she 
would be scared to death about him. She didn’t know that he was 
as safe in Texas to-day as in any State in the Union. To correct 


100 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


these errors and to give the facts about Texas and the Texans of 
to-day would be the main reason for my writing a book. 

“I have lived in Texas all of my life and would know what 1 
would be talking about, and as I have the time I think I owe it 
to my native State to do all that I can to place Texas where she 
rightly belongs — the peer of any of the States, the grandest State 
in the IJnion. All that Texas needs is for the truth to be told 
about her, and for the people of the other States to realize that it 
is the truth. There would soon be such an immigration to Texas 
that it would astonish the world. I am not egotistical enough to 
think that my book would accomplish this, for I realize that com- 
paratively very few people would ever read it, but I would like to 
add my little mite towards helping along in that direction. And 
then any good book uplifts character. I believe that it would be 
worth while to be the author of a good book, especially so if it 
should be possible for me to write one that would live and do good 
after I am dead and gone.^^ 

^^Who would you have for the characters of your book, George- 
town people?” asked the Texan. 

^^Both yes and no,” I answered. have been thinking con- 
siderably about my book and about that part in particular ever 
since I saw you last. I think I shall put in my book several actual 
persons in Georgetown who are my friends, and actually call them 
by name, but as for the main characters, both male and female, 
I think it would be better to have fictitious names. However, I 
think I will have each main character real in this way, that each 
would be a medley of the characters of two or three, or maybe 
four, different Georgetown people. It might give my friends 
some pleasure to guess what person each main character in the 
book really represents. As to the female characters, there are a 
number of fine Georgetown girls who might well be made the 
heroine of my book, if I have a heroine, and I would like to make 
them so; but to do so, would perhaps call down upon them more 
criticism than it would be pleasant to bear, and for that reason 
I would have no real heroine.” 

‘^‘^But,” said the Texan, ^Vhether you had a real heroine or not, 
would it not be necessary for you to have a real hero ?” 

^^Xo,” said I, ^^no more than a heroine. In most books the hero 


191 


THE TEXAN 


stands out so prominently that he monopolizes the whole book and 
makes all the other characters sink into insignificance. My idea 
is that the character of book which you wish me to write re- 
quires no decided hero. I have the same idea of the heroine, 
and it might be even a question of doubt as to who was the real 
heroine of the hook. Usually the novel writer exercises his privi- 
lege of making his hero and heroine vastly superior to the com- 
mon herd, but I have noticed that in actual life we are all more 
or less of a Vhatness,^ and it seems to me that if I start out to 
write a true story of Texas I ought to make the characters true.^’ 

“ThaTs right,’’ he answered. ^^But whom will you make the 
hero of your book, yourself?” 

‘^^Certainly not,” I quickly replied. ^‘That would be egotism 
run to seed. Owing to the fact that some of my readers would 
recognize that some of the events which L would have happen in 
the life of my hero have really happened in my own life, it might 
possibly cause some one to conclude that I had made myself the 
hero of my own book, but they would certainly be mistaken. I’d 
never make myself the hero of my own book. I don’t think that 
my life has been totally an uneventful one, and I would naturally 
have some things happen to my hero that have really happened 
to me, but by far the most of the things which I would have hap- 
pen in my hero’s life have not happened to me, but would be things 
which have occurred in the lives of other Texans. No, I am not 
egotistical enough to make myself the hero; neither do I expect 
to make any other Texan the hero, and yet I believe I know fifty 
Texans if the same things should happen to any one of them which 
I would have happen to the hero of my book, who under like cir- 
cumstances would do just the same as I would have him do. If 
I should attempt to become the hero of my own book, I should 
first have to go into the borrowing and lending business — that is, 
I should have to borrow all the virtues of my friends, and lend 
them all my faults. No, I would not make myself or any other 
special man my hero^ — my hero would be purely a fictitious person, 
made up of the characters of several different persons. It may be 
that I will make you the hero, but if I do, I will hide your identity 
so securely that my best friends will have a hard time guessing 
who you are.” 


192 


A TALE OF TEXAS 


^^No, don’t make me your hero/’ he said. ‘^But do you know 
that I sometimes think that I have peculiar ideas about heroes? 
I think that many a man in this world is really a hero who never 
has the opportunity to show it, and consequently the world never 
knows it because the critical moment never comes when he has a 
chance to show whether he is ‘a man or a mouse.’ I believe that 
in most cases if given an opportunity the hero will appear. You 
never know whether any man can qualify as a hero until he is 
tried. I like to see a man rise to the occasion when given an 
opportunity; he ought to be thankful for the opportunity to prove 
out of what sort of stuff he is made. I believe that many of the 
military and naval heroes had men under them who would under 
like circumstances have done as well, if not better, if positions had 
been reversed. Take Admiral Dewey and the Battle of Manila Bay. 
His opportunity to prove himself a hero came to him then and there, 
and grandly he took advantage of it. He added new lustre to our 
already illustrious navy, and every patriotic citizen of the United 
States glories in his success. Not one laurel would I take from 
his crown — I am proud of him — but do you know that I believe 
there were probably fifty men who fought under him — some officers 
and some privates — who, had places been reversed, would have made 
as great a success as he. As it is, he will go down in history, and 
justly so, as the ^Hero of the Battle of Manila Bay,’ because he 
had his opportunity, while the names of my other fifty nameless 
heroes, because of lack of opportunity, will never be recorded. 

admire any man who, given an opportunity, proves himself 
a hero. I am not a hero worshiper, because I can’t help but think 
of the unnumbered nameless ones, both in public and in private 
life, who never become heroes in the eyes of the world. I am 
optimistic on the subject, because I believe that there are so many 
of them in the world, that to me they become common and not a 
subject of worship. For that reason I am no hero worshiper, al- 
though I know by nature that all of us are more or less hero 
worshipers. 

^^Every man ought to be a hero and a good many are whether 
they ever get an opportunity to show it or not. ^All is not gold 
that glitters,’ is an old proverb, and a true one; but it would be 
just as true if you will allow me to change it a little and make a 

193 


THE TEXAN 


proverb of my own by saying, ^All gold does not glitter/ Much 
pure gold is hidden in the bowels of the earth that will never be 
discovered, and consequently will never see the light and get a 
chance to glitter, but, nevertheless, it is pure gold.” 

feel very much as you do about heroes,” said I, ^^and any of 
the fifty Texans that I spoke of might be the hero of my book. 

^^As far as the facts are concerned, I should write a true tale of 
Texas. That is, I would not put anything in my book that had 
not really happened in Texas in somebody’s life. The story would 
be untrue in one particular; that is, that all the things did not 
happen in the life of any one man. So much for the facts. 

“Now, as to the views I, as an author, might express on any 
subject, or those my hero might give voice to, that is quite another 
question. They would be all my own, for I would not dare to say 
that any man in the world should stand sponsor for all of my 
cranky notions. I couldn’t and wouldn’t expect that any of my 
readers would agree with me in all my ideas. In fact, some of 
them would think that they were nonsensical, and that I ought 
to change them. I expect that I shall change some of them — I 
have in the past. 

“I have read some books in which the author never seemed to 
have an opinion, either good or bad. I say, darn a man who thinks 
he is infallible, and has not sense enough to change his opinions 
when he sees that they are wrong. But what shall I say of any 
man who hasn’t any opinions to change ? He is no more than a 
chunk of wood fioating down the stream of life, and will ultimately 
land where he rightly belongs — that is, in the sea of oblivion. I 
would rather have opinions and be severely criticised for them than 
to be a chunk of wood and have none to express. Don’t you know 
that the critics would have a great time tearing my book to pieces ? 
I’d steal a march on them, though, for in the introduction of my 
book I would get ahead of the critics and do a little criticising of 
my own book before they got a chance at it — that would be some- 
thing new and unique. I would have my book somewhat out of 
the regular order of novels in this also, that I think I should have 
my hero marry early in the book. I know that a good many of my 
readers would stop reading my book and lay it aside when the 
hero married, but that kind of readers are not worth much, and 

194 


A TALb: OF TEXAS 


they would miss the best chapters of the book. I don’t see why 
it always takes a single man to be the hero of a book. 

“As far as I know mine would be the only novel ever written 
that was not a religious one which would tell the plan of salvation 
and tell how to become a Christian. It would also be different 
from the usual novel in that I would not have any villain and very 
little plot. I would try to have a little mystery about whom my 
hero was to marry, and I don’t think that I would have him say 
a word of love to the girl he does marry, and yet I would try and 
write it so that it would he perfectly natural for him to marry the 
girl ; that would he something new. 

“But probably the most unique idea that I would have in my 
book would be the introduction. Usually the introduction comes 
first in a book, separate and apart from the story, and is usually 
so uninteresting that the average reader often fails to read it at 
all. I would make my introduction and my conclusion one and 
the same — that is, I would make my introduction the last chapter 
of my book, and I would try to make it the most interesting 
chapter, because in it I would take the reader into my full con- 
fidence and tell why I wrote the book and in it I would reach my 
climax. I would not expect my book to be especially popular, 
because I would not to try to write the regulation novel of the 
present day. Many people here at home would not like my book 
at all, because it would be lacking in narrative and description, 
and would be especially lacking in the usual kind of love story. 
On account of these supposed defects and because I would not 
make my hero the most lovable character imaginable, some of my 
best friends would say that my book was a poor one. I think any 
one can write a novel embodying all of these things, and in writing 
the character of novel that I would write, I would leave them out 
and try to write something entirely different from the usual novel 
of to-day. In my opinion, the usual novel starts from nowhere 
and goes to nowhere, and is nothing when you get through but a 
lot of trash, and I always did believe that trash should be burned. 
I would make just enough of a novel, love story, etc., as to hold it 
together and make it passably readable to the majority of those 
who read it. I have no desire whatever to write a trashy book, 
and I would try and write a clean story and something worth read- 


195 


THE TEXAN 


ing. I would prefer quality among my readers rather than quan- 
tity, although I know that quantity would be the more remuner- 
ative. 

^^My book would be written with an object in view, and I trust 
a high one, and I would not allow myself to cheapen that object 
by bringing it down to a dollars and cents basis, or to make it 
popular. Neither would I try to write a pretty story, because I 
think that it would be out of place in a book like that to try and 
show off what little learning I might possess. My idea would be 
to write a simple, clean story, but true to life. I at least would 
blaze the way, and it would not be long before somebody else in 
Georgetown would follow my example and perhaps write a better 
book than I. 

donT know whether or not I could write a book that many 
people would read, but if nobody would read it I don’t know of any 
law that would prevent me from giving them all away for Christ- 
mas presents. I would save the annual bother of buying Christmas 
presents for several years to come anyway. If I ever write a book 
of that character, that will be the style.” 

I saw that the idea interested the Texan and I asked him what 
I should call the book which I intended to write; what name 
should I give it. Quick as a flash came the answer. 

^^You know,” he said, ^^that I love Texas. I think that she is 
the grandest State in the Union and has more opportunities before 
her than , any other State, but, as much as I love Texas, I love 
Texans more, and if I were you I think I should call my book 
The Texan.” 

THE END. 


B 


6 





196 


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